Aimless
by The Silent Insomniac
Summary: Joshua Renalia finds himself lost in the Dragon Realms with nothing but his sleeping clothes, his knowledge of Spyro lore, and a power beyond his understanding. Cut off from all he knows, the human discovers Spyro's world is alien, unforgiving, brutally shattering his naive expectations. How long can he live here before going insane? Is there a way back home? Why is he even here?
1. Discovery

**Chapter 1:** **Discovery**

* * *

"_I discovered I always have choices and sometimes it's only a choice of attitude."_

– Judith M. Knowlton

* * *

Anthropomorphic beasts gathered past the solid, gilded gate. Literally a stone's throw away from Warfang, the City of Dragons. Upright llamas enjoyed the clear view thanks to their long, furry necks. Cheetahs observed the commotion from the treetops. Dragonflies fluttered to and fro, like mobile lanterns incapable of staying still. The occasional, adult dragon towered above them all, and it seemed the short, hairy moles and every other animal not blessed by height or acrobatics had little chance catching a good glimpse of the action.

All ignored the golden, one-winged dragon slumped unconscious on a nearby tree. They'd much rather watch—stare at the strangely dressed creature kneeling in the middle of the crowd, covered in blood. It was a young, male ape. It had an odd shape: almost hairless, almost _furless_. The skin was a deep russet, balanced between black and light brown.

Its viridian eyes ogled the—_don't think about it!_ –below him. "S, shit," he cursed. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh f*cking shit!"

Joshua Renalia, the only human being in this entire spectacle, crawled forward. "Oh my f*cking God!" He hyperventilated even as he cried, even as he felt like screaming. "I'm sorry. I'm so _sorry_. I, I-I-I, I didn't mean—I didn't **know**—

Both hands found the purple scales somehow, despite the human's panic. They were warm to the touch. Smooth and ridged. But even Joshua felt something was wrong. The strong, rippling muscles inside were rigid. Trembling from something he could only describe as shock. _Damn it_, he thought. This wasn't supposed to happen. This should've gone so much smoother. "What did I do?" he muttered, confused. "What did I do? What did I do what did I do what did I f*cking—

A flash of white intruded Joshua's mind. Blood and a most disgusting smell replaced it, subjecting the young boy to an urge to vomit. He felt the _stronger_ urge to drop dead, to run, to do nothing but gape. "No. No, no, no." The human choked. He choked. He cupped his mouth, but it barely suppressed the cry tearing itself out of his lungs. Tears threatened to fall. "I, I couldn't… no, I _couldn't_ have, that's… that's not what I—

"NO! SPYRO!"

A gunshot rang out in his ears.

"Oh crap!" The human turned and saw a pair of magenta wings flaring ominously. A black dragoness bared its fangs at him. Two emeralds glared back into his brown eyes, and he instantly saw the desire to protect a loved one shimmering inside. "Get away from him, _ape_!"

Joshua nearly shrunk at the blades glinting on his assailant's tail and wings. And those horns. All six of those sharp, menacing horns. They never looked so _dangerous_ in the video game. "Cynder, wait!" He raised his hands, as far up as he could. "Look, I can fix this. I can **fix** this! I **swear**!" He motioned towards the only other unconscious dragon in sight. "Remember what I did for Kilat—

Cynder charged. She ignored his pleas. Joshua backed away out of fright. He couldn't even stand up, let alone run. He watched the former Terror of the Skies open her muzzle. "Don't kill me! Please, just give me a—

"A one-way ticket to Ape hell!" roared an enraged, golden dragonfly.

Red orbs flew out and veered straight for the human, who could do nothing but flinch, cover his face with his arms, shut his eyes, and braced himself for Cynder's _Phantom Fright_.

This was not how Joshua thought he would meet the two most celebrated heroes of the Dragon Realms, his two favorite video game characters of all time.

.

.

Indeed, if you were given the chance to enter a fictional world of your choice…

If you were given the chance to meet the characters you liked, to see them in the flesh—to talk to them, to befriend them as living _people_, to discover things well beyond the lore established by canon…

Would you take it?

Even if it meant abandoning life as you know it?

If it required you to leave behind all the conveniences you took for granted, all the people you ever cared about, all the dreams you wanted to achieve…

Would you take it?

Even if it was not certain you would succeed?

And if you could somehow push away the nostalgia, shove aside your fantasies, and _seriously _scrutinize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…

Would you _still_ take it anyway?

Even if you ran the risk of becoming…

* * *

.

.

.

**AIMLESS**

.

.

.

* * *

If God had mercy on Joshua Renalia, He would have given him this choice in the first place.

Unfortunately, Joshua never recalled being presented with such a question.

Slipping into a comfortable, king-sized bed was the last thing he remembered on the day he arrived in the Dragon Realms. He recalled lifting the sheets over a pair of soft, gray flannel trousers, a V-neck, and—something he hoped his parents didn't discover—a provocative photograph of an FHM model and a few sheets of tissue. He was quick to shut his eyes and pleasure himself into a dreamless sleep.

Only to wake up on a bed of grass in the middle of a forest.

He closed his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep. He hoped it would wake him up from this dream. But closing his eyes only accentuated the dampness of the ground and the crumbly surface underneath his body. He heard clearly the leaves swaying in the wind, the serene smell of life circulating throughout the forest—

Joshua sat up. "What the hell?" He looked down at his body. He still wore his sleepwear. Still had a hand tucked in his trousers, clutching a crusty, dried ball of tissue. Green eyes looked around cautiously. "This, this isn't… Where am I?"

Joshua took out his hand and threw aside the disgusting tissue and its faint smell of bleach. He winced when he felt the cool, smooth grass sliding between his toes. The rough, crumbling soil dug into the balls of his feet, soft and untouched thanks to the comforts of modern civilization. _Shit_, cursed the teenager. _What's going on?_

The brown-skinned human being chose a direction at random and sauntered off in the middle of nowhere. It may not have been the smartest thing to do at the time, but with the 21st century _clearly_ absent from all five of his senses, it was the only thing Joshua could think of at the moment.

And in hindsight, it probably was a good thing he did. Otherwise he might never have discovered exactly where he was.

Joshua Renalia already hated every minute he spent in this forest, and he hated even more the fact he could not track the time any more beyond the movements of the sun.

He wiped the few droplets of sweat covering his forehead. The heat filtering through the forest was borderline comfortable, yet it remained humid enough to make him sweat. He felt—he _heard_ his stomach grumble again, probably the third time over the past five minutes. Joshua put his hand over his belly and rubbed it, as if the mere act could fill the growing hunger and the abdominal pain that went with it.

"Tch!" He grunted, barely driving away the dread trying to possess him. This was not a dream, he finally realized. This was reality now. **His **reality. Damn it all, he **needed** food and water, and he needed it soon to survive.

How long had he been walking aimlessly through this forest? Where was he going? Where **was** he? Joshua couldn't recall glimpsing anything passable as food as he trekked across the wild land, and he didn't want to risk himself with the yellow berries glinting seductively in the shrubs untouched, not when they were so low just about anyone—any_thing_ could reach out and touch them. _Possibly poisonous_.

Just how did he get into this mess in the first place? He certainly wouldn't volunteer for an ordeal like this. Joshua was by no means a survivalist; he knew little beyond concepts he could guess using common sense alone, but even so, execution would definitely be unreliable.

Something sharp dug into his feet and interrupted his thought process. Joshua returned to reality to find himself staring at a falling slope that ended in a steep drop-off. Water rapidly streamed along the shallow creek below. The ground was a considerable distance from the cliff. Give or take a hundred feet, if he estimated correctly—

"Whoa!" Joshua stopped and leaped back immediately. He could've fallen right then and there. He could've plummeted to his own death just like _that_. Lucky he noticed it just in time! Regardless the teenager quivered from fright and sat in place, staring down at the landscape below. He should've been more careful. He _could've_ been more careful if he simply stopped pondering how exactly he ended up in this godforsaken forest with nothing else except the clothes on his back and focused completely on doing the best he could with his limited (borderline nonexistent) knowledge on wilderness survival.

The sixth rumbling of his poor stomach roused Joshua from his stupor. He licked his lips as he woke. His tongue, his mouth felt dry. He sensed the thirst approaching. Hopefully the water below wouldn't be contaminated with bacteria or something worse. He heard bird tweets from close proximity—the first time he's heard them this morning. Joshua looked around, wondering where the animals were. Perhaps he could rely on them. Use their knowledge of the forest to find edible plants. It wasn't the optimal solution, but it was something he could work with for now—

There!

He found a number of birds fussing over several trees near him, and the red and blue berries hanging from the branches. Joshua Renalia watched carefully, eyed how they gobbled up the blue ones and discarded the crimson spheres. Strange how these animals apparently rejected the juiciest, tastiest looking fruits…

A hypothesis formed in his head as he took note of this observation and smiled. Perhaps he had food after all. Joshua took a small pebble from the ground and chucked it at the nearest tree. "Shoo!" he said. "Get away! Shoo!"

He ignored the red berries—he'd test their edibility later, somehow—and looked up. Oh _boy_, was he in for a climb! And on his bare feet, nonetheless. Maybe he could fashion a pair of slippers later… but for now, he wanted food and water. He had to put something in his stomach, and he had to do it **now**.

The human brushed away the black bangs from his face and proceeded to climb. The bark did not feel nice for his dirty feet, but at this point, Joshua had little choice. He chose to endure the discomfort. He chose to ignore as much of the prickling as he humanly could, letting adrenaline and sheer _hunger_ give him the motivation to go on. Whatever he was in, he would survive this. Then he would investigate his situation. He would beat up the living shit out of the asshole who decided to bring him here to this nightmare once he found him, and then it's time to get the hell out of there and head for home. Home, sweet home.

Without a bag of any sort, Joshua Renalia jury-rigged one out of his shirt as soon as he reached the top section of the tree. He stabilized himself on the other branches, again pushing away the pain lashing out from the small cuts decorating his feet. He took off the navy blue V-neck and held it by the openings. Then he plucked every blue berry he could reach from his position and stashed it into his makeshift bag. They were large. As big as grapes, he reckoned.

He made sure to count each one. Once he had about twenty or so, he tied up the shirt, closed it as much as he could, and began his descent…

Only to stop when he looked out, gazed at the clear view of the horizon.

A blue sky.

White, fluffy clouds.

A walled city in the distance, towards the far left. Tall, white, and imposing.

A broken volcano towards the far right, seeming more distant than the city. What looked like _land_ floated above the dead mountain. An impossible sight.

It was more impossible to miss the small number of reptilian forms flying above the walled city. They looked like _dragons_. But he could barely see the colors. Joshua squinted. Were they orange? Green? Blue? Yellow? Wait a minute, did he just see a purple one—

Recognition struck the teenager. He might have dropped the bag of berries had he been less distracted by his amazement, by this new discovery. Thank God he was an avid gamer, and a fan of _Spyro the Dragon_ at that. If he hadn't touched the video game at any point in his life, he would have never identified the walled city of Warfang presenting itself before his eyes. He would have never perceived the glory it seemed to radiate, as though the conflict with the Dark Master was long over.

The City of Dragons waited for Joshua Renalia. It was just sitting there, waiting for him to make his way to its borders, to its scores of new faces. To think he managed to catch a glimpse of Spyro himself from afar.

At that moment, Joshua decided to trek all the way to the city. Forget going home! He was in the Dragon Realms now. He didn't know how he got here, he didn't know who brought him here, and he certainly didn't know _why_ he was here, but his decision assured him, as the teenager had much better chances of getting the answers he wanted at Warfang.

This was the chance of a lifetime. An opportunity he simply couldn't refuse. Who _wouldn't_ want to be in his place right now?

And so what began as seething hate transformed into eagerness. Into _excitement_. An unbridled anticipation, surrounded by a realm of possibilities.

Joshua Renalia would never learn how far his own expectations blinded him. Not until it was too late.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Hey y'all.

I am the Silent Insomniac. I've been into fanfiction for a long time. For several years, actually. But I'm mostly active in another fandom, so I'm heading into unexplored territory here. In fact, I shouldn't be writing this story at all. I shouldn't. I'm afraid I don't have that good a grasp over the canon characters, and I'm not even _that _well-versed in the fandom to supplant the canon lore with my own. But I want to. I've been seeing a lot of _Trapped in TV Land_ type stories in this fandom, and I came across a one-year-old story that was merely a "rant/question" by a _Spyro _writer, which asked why this sort of story pervaded the _Spyro_ community, why the writers of these stories often fail, often ignore the uncomfortable questions that come with this premise.

So having seen the same thing this _Spyro_ writer did, asking myself the same questions, and even reading the comments left on this writer's "story", I felt the urge to do something about it and write. As much as I hate what it does to the little free time I have, I must yield or it'll drive me nuts.

As you may gather from the summary and the contents of my first chapter here, I will be upfront about it. This is going to be a _Trapped in TV Land_ story. A "Human in the Dragon Realms" one, to be specific, right in the _Legend_ verse. And I plan on subverting it. Mapping out even a rough outline of what I want to happen was hard as balls, but the final product should have some decent entertainment value, even more so after I get a few chapters in.

If anyone actually ends up liking this story, just so you know, my main project in my home fandom will always take priority ahead of this story as I am doing this just to get the concept out there. So… I don't know how long this story is going to be and I don't know how often I'm going to update, but I sure as hell know I am **not** going to put in the same amount of work. No super immersive chapters between 10K and 20K in word count. I plan on keeping this real small, real simple. God help me; I have never written chapters as short as 3K. It may be easy to keep it short now, but wait 'til I start bringing in other characters… ugh, I am not looking forward to that.

Anyway, if you have any criticisms or feedback, feel free to say something.


	2. First Day High

**Chapter 2: First Day High**

* * *

"_The real world is oftentimes different from what you expect it to be, what you think it to be, and what people might say it to be."_

\- Innocent Mwatsikesimbe

* * *

Joshua Renalia ogled the twin moons in the celestial curtain above him. Wonder still fluttered in his heart as he viewed their slow journey across the sky. He found zero familiarity in the twinkling stars, unable to recognize even a single constellation from back home.

All this indicated just how far away from home he was. Looking back at it days later, it astounded Joshua how he didn't figure out this also meant he had very little chances of returning home ever again. Almost _nil_, to be exact. Rather than thinking about the family he left behind—his doting mother, his overprotective father, and a pair of siblings looking up to him, the eldest—Joshua's thoughts still obsessed over the fact he was in the Dragon Realms.

He still couldn't get over it.

The two moons.

The unfamiliar sky.

The strange atmosphere.

How could he even move on from this surreal—no, this _wonderful _experience when the City of Dragons still rested in the horizon, **no closer** than it had been this morning? The only change to the scenery was the addition of the dam. Apparently, **the**,dam Spyro and Cynder destroyed to slow down the Destroyer.

From afar, it looked like the integrity of the structure had collapsed. A pile of rubble that, by itself, formed a natural dam over and through which hundreds of thousands of gallons of water permeated. _So that places me after Dawn of the Dragon_, mused Joshua. But by how long? If he recalled his _Spyro_ lore right, a new generation of dragons was brought into the world every twelve years. Having seen a small _but_ considerable number of dragons flying above Warfang, it was clear Malefor had been defeated for good sometime ago.

In other words, either two to three generations had already passed or his two favorite characters had done some exploring in the years that followed, recovering enough refugees to significantly increase Warfang's dragon population.

Joshua shifted in his spot, taking care not to dislodge himself from the precious balance he's attained since climbing up this tree. It was a fairly large one, to be sure, with branches no thinner than a telephone pole and enough leaves to shelter the stranded human from much of the wind and rain, if they ever came. He thanked Jesus Christ the temperatures weren't freezing at night, that the dirty sleepwear he still wore was sufficient for his needs.

It simply wouldn't do if he died of hypothermia long before he got a chance to meet the saviors of the Dragon Realms face to face.

Mother Nature was a harsh and fickle mistress, Joshua pondered. That did not change whether he was on Earth or, evidently, anywhere else in the universe. Truly, being in the Dragon Realms was far, far different from actually _living in it_. The human shuddered, recalling the few times he had nearly died today.

In retrospect, he blamed it on First Day High.

Ever since Joshua Renalia realized he was in the Dragon Realms, something inside him woke up. It stoked a blazing fire in him. A drive to reach the City of Dragons. A motivation fueled by the strong, insatiable desire to see a handful of people considered fictional back home. But instead of instilling caution, it impelled him into recklessness, encouraging impatience. He had to get to Warfang, ASAP. It was the only thing he could think of.

Joshua quickly descended the tree. He nearly fell off a branch in his haste, but caught himself at the right time. As soon as he felt the soil and berries below squishing under his bare feet, the teenager opened the makeshift bag of blue berries and popped a couple in his mouth. He had no plans of eating any more than that if even _these_ proved poisonous for him.

While he waited for any ill effects, Joshua also reached down and placed a handful of red berries into the bag, intending to test them just as well. If he was lucky, the berries were only bad for the birds but not for other animals, like him. And as he promised himself earlier, he decided to make some footwear.

Some of the bushes around here had thick, wide leaves, comparable to the leaves of a banana tree. It took no time at all to pluck out a few, wrap them around his feet, and use the more delicate branches scattered across the ground to tie them up and turn the whole thing into a pair of makeshift flip-flops. It was better than nothing, really, but he at least had some grip and it _did_ keep his feet clean and away from whatever hazards hid right under his nose.

The blue berries turned out to be just fine for him. The fruit was soft, as expected, but the meat inside was fibrous and faintly sweet. The sensations on his tongue reminded him little of the blueberries on Earth, but at least these things could be eaten.

Once he gulped down a few of the red berries, he noted how they tasted slightly sweet, their flavors yielding to something sour and _horribly _bitter. His teeth noticed the general firmness in the fruit. No wonder the birds preferred the blue ones.

Gratefully, during the twenty minutes Joshua spent traversing down the short woodland cliff to the only water source he encountered throughout his entire time in the forest thus far, nothing happened. No fever. No vomiting. No nausea. Nothing_._ Looks like they checked out too. Luckily, trees just like it were certainly common. He could recall—_barely_—how often he passed by one before arriving at this "cliff". A good thing, considering he already ate all the berries he had wrapped up in his makeshift bag.

"Making great progress over here," Joshua muttered to himself, chest swelling with pride as he took his first step after descending the cliff. If he kept this up, he would _definitely_ make it to Warfang in a few Earth days. A couple of Earth weeks, at most.

He ogled the flowing stream. Its waters flowed rapidly, cool to the touch. No signs of animals upstream. The sight of fresh water reminded the human of his thirst. Oh man, was he parched! He knelt, cupped his hands, and gulped down God knew how much water, stopping only when he could no longer tolerate its repulsive, earthy taste.

Pity Joshua's luck ran out on him at that moment.

The sun had just passed its apex when agonizing stomach cramps assaulted the young man out of the blue. "Arrrggghhh!" Joshua buckled as he fell. Down on the ground, he clutched his stomach and rolled over. Once. Twice. What the hell—and _there it is again!_ Another sledgehammer right on the gut, a thousand times over.

The comfortable air that infused the forest, nice and warm thanks to the midday sun, suddenly transmogrified into an unpleasant chill. Joshua Renalia shivered, and awfully so. Instinct guided the back of his palm to his neck, which was as a frying pan settled atop a burning stove.

Fever.

He felt intense fever.

How… how in God's name did he get sick like—

"Rrrrrr!" the teenager hissed, curling inward into a fetal position. This cramp felt like a truck speeding into his innards at 60 miles per hour. Joshua palpitated. He struggled to even prop himself on his knees, and the instant he moved he felt his asshole _literally_ growl at him. His anus all but vocalized its demand to expel everything, to purge everything inside.

Joshua couldn't do anything but comply. He fled to the nearest tree, took off his trousers, and defecated. He was horrified to see _pure liquid_ bursting out of his rear every fifteen seconds, like a miniature Old Faithful, rumbling and grumbling and gushing. Then another cramp came. "Oh **shit** not again!"

He refused to let this inopportune diarrhea stop him from reaching the City of Dragons. He had to keep going. Stubborn as ever, rather than figuring out how he got sick and what options he could take to resolve this new stumbling block, Joshua Renalia plucked plenty of leaves from the nearby shrubs and wiped off enough of the disgusting fecal matter to make a small, crumpled pile next to him…

Only for another figurative sledgehammer to pummel his solar plexus and literally force out more _shit_ from his brown buttcheeks. To his horror, Joshua Renalia felt a bad headache coming along for the ride. He licked his lips, and noticed instantly how dry his mouth was.

His mind dredged one of the few survivalist lessons he's learned at random—probably read from a handbook inside a first aid kit or from a Wikipedia article—and at once the teenager pinched the back of his hand. Anxiety settled its heavy weight down on Joshua as he watched the skin of his hand _slowly_ return to normal. A well-known sign of dehydration.

Water.

He had to get more water!

The teenager stranded in a supposedly fictional world grabbed another bunch of leaves and rubbed it all over his backside. He pulled up his trousers and rushed for the nearby stream. It was only when he knelt beside the flowing water for the second time today did he realize it was **contaminated**. He stopped.

"Knew something was gonna happen sooner or later," Joshua grumbled. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he very nearly keeled over to the side. His vision wavered, and for a second, his green eyes barely held on to his focus.

_Beggars can't be choosers_.

He felt another cramp—another _shitting_–coming along, but Joshua once again found himself unable to consider anything else but bite the bullet. He drank from the stream again. Slurped up as much of the earthy water even if it risked worsening his sickness, if not perpetuating his current state of affairs. That was the difference between modern civilization and wilderness survival.

In modern life, a person could pull out whenever he wanted to. He could push the exit button at any time and, with a little more effort or a few more monetary resources, take in anything safe, wonderful, and high-quality.

But in the wilderness, this exit button did not exist. Once you were in it, you had to go all the way. You couldn't half-ass the trip and quit just as things toughened up in the middle of it.

Joshua had no pharmacies to go to in the Dragon Realms. No supermarkets. No hospitals. No internet to even research the basics of survival. Even if he had his smartphone on him, it was next to useless without a source of electricity and a signal tower. He was alone, and he had to deal with his situation by himself the best way he could or he would die. Use whatever resources Mother Nature gave him or die.

He followed the water downstream. He stuck close this time, and endured the constant cramps. Rather than doubling back to the tree earlier, he unloaded his bowels a few ways away from the stream. He always kept it in sight. He did not want to be dehydrated again. But eventually hunger announced its second coming for the day, and Joshua Renalia dreaded this moment, for the berry trees were tall and demanded a somewhat challenging climb. The bushes with the yellow berries were unfortunately poisonous; he had tested their edibility minutes ago and they were horribly acerbic. Made his tongue burn twenty seconds after contact.

Joshua's first priority became not food, not water, but _recovery_. A forest like this certainly would have more than just birds living here. If he remembered the games right, even the swamp Spyro grew up in heralded dangers that could easily kill a defenseless human being. The Bulb Spiders liked to camouflage themselves and ambush their prey. Grove Mites surprise their prey and overwhelm them in swarms, draining the blood out of its poor victims. And these creatures were definitely _huge_. Hunter wasn't that much larger than a human adult, Joshua figured, and even then, Spyro was probably as tall as one if the quadruped dragon stood on his hind legs.

He did not know what lived in this forest, but if he left wet piles of literal shit every fifty meters, he would definitely make easy prey later tonight. Only after the sun fell from its zenith—perhaps midway from completely disappearing into the horizon—did Joshua see something that stroked his curiosity: red crystals. A whole group of it across the stream. It stuck out of the earth as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

An ostensible reminder him he was lost in the Dragon Realms, not some godforsaken jungle in Africa.

They were not so much as spines from _Dawn of the Dragon_ as they were balls of spikes from either _A New Beginning_ or _The_ _Eternal Night_. Cogitating over this later tonight, Joshua Renalia could not understand what convinced him—what **compelled** him to grab the nearest stick, rush out there no matter how much he wanted to curl up in the ground or take another nasty shit, and swing the crude weapon at it.

He half expected the stick to fall apart when it struck the crystals.

He did **not** expect the crystals to be so brittle as to literally crumble into glinting, radiant pieces before his eyes.

"Huh," he remarked with an offhand comment, recalling how strongly the dragons would strike the crystals in the video games. "Spyro and Cynder made it look hard. Didn't know it was **this** easy."

Joshua bent down and clutched the red crystals. He hoped it wasn't his sheer desperation making him act this way. The teenager's headcanon of the _Legend of Spyro_ trilogy insisted only dragons had the ability to utilize the energy infused in the spirit gems. Most fanfiction ascribed to this theory since none of Spyro's enemies—even the wild animals that tried to eat him—ever used them to recover their own injuries. Then there was also the fact Ignitus himself explained their existence as a "gift that speaks across generations". The so-called life force of all dragonkind.

Given all that information, why would real life be any differ…ent...

He watched the radiant crimson fragments dull in his hands. The color faded into a lifeless gray, and the inert crystal literally dissolved into dust before his eyes. And to his amazement, he felt much better than ever before. The cramps vanished. The constant urge to defecate ceased. Even the weakness subjected to him by his intense fever concluded.

All illnesses and infirmity disappeared instantaneously.

Yet Joshua remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed not by some unforeseen toxin in the crystals but by the enormous gravity of all the new questions circling through his head. This _shouldn't_ have happened. No way. He _couldn't_ have absorbed the crystals. No **f*cking** way.

He had to try this again. This was supposed to be impossible.

Joshua spotted another cluster of Spirit Gems a couple yards off the health crystals. This one was blue, and it _glowed_, its very structure emanating power.

Much like the red crystals, these proved no less brittle after a couple strikes with the two-foot stick Joshua picked up at random. Clutching the fragments repeated what happened earlier, and a pair of viridian eyes widened at the way the azure hue dulled into gray and enfeebled the Spirit Gem so much it disintegrated. Rather than feeling his health return, Joshua experienced the sensation of something deep within him slightly growing, invoking the imagery of a wizened man jolting to life as clarity surged forth in his intelligent mind.

He tried again with a nearby cluster of green gems, and the same result. Only this time, the absorption process induced the feeling of strength, like a stimulant rippling inside his arms.

"Nah, this can't be right," he uttered. Joshua waved a hand across his rear. Afterwards, he ran it across his hair. He even turned his head around, moving his shoulders back and forth. And last, a close inspection of his skin revealed zilch.

No tail. No horns. No wings. No scales.

He **wasn't** turning into a dragon anytime soon. (Much to his indescribable relief.)

"Okaaaaayy," he mumbled to himself. "But then why can I absorb the XP and mana gems?" If not a dragon, then maybe he had a power of some sort? It would be cool if he did, Joshua had to admit. It was a fantasy he shared with many a fanwriter, as loathe as he was to keep this a secret from his friends back on Earth.

Expectantly, Joshua raised his hand and stared intently at it. He exerted all of his will, all of his mental faculties, at producing something. _Anything_! For all the effort he put into this exercise of curiosity, it proved fruitless. The human could have easily pretended or imagined tongues of fire billowing out of his palms and nothing would have happened anyway.

No elements, as far as he knew. In fact, he felt **perfectly** **normal**. Ordinary.

Joshua Renalia shook his head. "That makes absolutely no sense." The experience contrasted his knowledge of _Spyro_ lore. It challenged what little he understood of the Dragon Realms, and this time, he didn't have the luxury of investigating this anomaly on a _Spyro_ wiki. "I should at least, **at least** have something—

SNAP!

A twig splintered a ways away from him, and he heard rustling in the shrubs thriving all over the forest.

Joshua had company now, and the boy had no desire to initiate a struggle for survival with a wild animal anytime soon. He grabbed his stick and hid himself behind the cluster of mana gems. He peeked out, and eyed the wide clearing in the forest.

For a few seconds, nothing emerged.

For a few minutes, all remained quiet.

The temptation to relax and walk out into the open loomed. He was actually right about to take it when something that bore a strong resemblance to a wild boar, straight out of the original _Spyro the Dragon _trilogy, ambled into the middle.

Joshua Renalia held his breath. _Jesus Christ_. The original trilogy used the first-generation Sony Playstation as its platform. All its enemies were highly pixelated. The people at Insomniac Games couldn't have imagined how **terrifying** and **intimidating** this feral beast looked. Its tusks gleamed in the light, and its body was well-toned and muscular.

The human didn't like the way those teeth appeared. They seemed sharp enough to cut through skin and bone in one crunch. Joshua looked about. He had to get out of here. There was no way he'd survive with nothing but a stick and a body bred from a life of modernity and its innumerable conveniences.

Then the stupid stick happened to bump into the green crystals. _F*ck me!_

The predator turned in his direction **immediately**. Its hooves plodded slowly, deliberately towards the green Spirit Gems. Joshua ducked beneath the cluster and curled up into a ball as soon as he perceived its approach, licking its muzzle as it closed in.

_Don't find me_, he prayed. He embraced his stick, for all the good it could do for him in a life-threatening combat situation. _Don't find me. Don't find me. For the love of God, please don't find me!_

The human sensed the wild boar on the other side of the gem cluster. He couldn't explain it—it was _downright impossible_ to explain it—but he knew, **he knew for a** **fact** that the animal now stood less than three feet from him. It snorted. It groused, sounding like a pig back on Earth. He heard it sniff the air, smacking its lips.

Was it trying to smell him out?

Was it trying to taste the air, to see where its prey hid?

The thought of being found by this hungry beast terrified Joshua out of his wits. He did **not** expect the home of Spyro the Dragon to be so harsh, to be so unforgiving and merciless. He raised a hand to his mouth and cupped it shut. _Got to stay hidden._

He didn't trust himself enough to _not_ scream or gasp with this goddamn animal so close. He tried to take deep breaths and calm his palpitating heart, but it couldn't stop the tingling panic creeping all over his skin. _Got to stay hidden!_

It took all of Joshua's resolve to stop himself from making a run for it after the tusks and the furry snout poked past the gem cluster. _Don't look here,_ he begged, even if all logic contended he was as good as found. _Don't look here!_

Joshua's hands quivered. _Don't look!_ He gripped the stick in his right hand and raised it, preparing to lash out with a backhand the instant the wild boar came into view and faced him. He hoped against hope the scant seconds this surprise attack would grant him was enough to escape an immediate and painful death. _DON'T YOU F*CKING LOOK!_

.

.

.

If Joshua did not truly and sincerely prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ before, he most certainly promised himself to go to Church and worship the Heavenly Father every other day after he stayed still and, despite his terror, watched the snout retreat back behind the bush of crystals. He heard the boar sniff the air again—once… twice… before it ventured off in another direction.

Another minute passed.

Then, and only then, did Joshua release his breath. He slumped down on the mana gems. Teardrops dripped out his eyes and he cupped his mouth again. Not to suppress his words, but to prevent what little food he had in his stomach from seeing the outside world again. "Holy shit," he said. His hands still shook. He couldn't get them to stop. "Holy shit, holy **shit**! Too close. That was just too close…"

Fortunately, the rest of the day went on uneventfully. The Holy Father must have loved to play tricks on him, as ever since Joshua narrowly eluded being eaten alive or succumbing to a waterborne disease, he no longer trusted his environment. The slightest noise startled him. The slightest movement coerced his walking stick up into a ready stance.

Every time he put something in his mouth to eat, to drink, the lost human did it only with a cluster of red crystals in sight. He whiled away the boredom by practicing some swipes and thrusts on the XP crystals. He sought quick stimuli from the mana gems, as much as he knew those would never replace actual nourishment.

Joshua never did figure out why he could absorb the Spirit Gems, but he wasn't going to look at a gift horse in the mouth. The cards were stacked against him, as though the City of Dragons did everything in its power to stop him, short of killing the young boy outright.

When night settled in, knowing predators like that boar were more likely to find and kill him, he took shelter up a tree, and thankfully, one with the blue and red berries. A few Spirit Gem clusters dotted the surrounding area, and from here he could glimpse—and hardly so—two locations he recognized from _Dawn of the Dragon_.

He was glad he survived, Joshua concluded. If he kept this up over the next several days, by the time he reached Warfang, he wouldn't be so surprised if he felt like he achieved 100% in the original _Spyro _trilogy on a blind playthrough all over again.

Of course, the circle of life was not one to back down from a challenge.

Joshua's reminiscing was interrupted by the sounds of yipping and yowling, coming from below. He stared down at the forest floor, his green eyes accustomed to the darkness and the light shone from the Spirit Gems and the twin moons above.

A pack of wolves meandered into view. Their eyes shone a frightening yellow and globs of purple saliva trickled from their large, strong jaws. He couldn't exactly recognize the color of their fur, but Joshua had been a fan of the _Legend of Spyro_ trilogy long enough to identify what exactly these creatures were.

Death Hounds.

Four of them.

Joshua resisted the urge of pleading for mercy from the Heavens and instead clutched his stick. His only weapon. Surviving **this** on his own power would require—

A growl stopped the human from moving further. It was close.

**Too** close for comfort.

He gyrated. That sounded like it came from right beside him…

A _fifth_ Death Hound, larger than the other four, glared at him hungrily from the branch of an adjacent tree. A cold chill ran down Joshua's spine, for these enemies had shown much better resourcefulness than they ever did in the video games. _F*ck, my, life._

Anxiety grasped Joshua hard. He scrambled to move. **Now!**

The Alpha of the pack lunged at him with its claws primed and fangs prepped for the kill.

"AHHHHH!"

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Finally starting to get some of the fun parts, at last.

This is Joshua's first combat situation, and unfortunately, all he's got is a hard stick and not a shred of armor on him. If this was your typical _Spyro Human-in-the-Dragon-Realms_ story, I'm pretty sure this is my cue to reveal that Joshua is a high-level black belt in Krav Maga with years of experience in practical combat. Or, well... something like that.

Hmmmm… Nope. Not gonna happen.

Not on my watch. :P


	3. Against All Odds

**Chapter 3: Against All Odds**

* * *

_"Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest."_

\- Carrie Ryan

* * *

To endure the obstacle life threw at him mostly unscathed, Joshua had to be one, just one of many things.

He could be a master in martial arts. A young man with the reflexes of a cobra and limbs conditioned enough to send one reeling blow after another on anything unfortunate enough to receive them.

Or perhaps he could be a seasoned trapper, whose paranoia in the Dragon Realms induced him to prepare scores of deadly snares and traps before even thinking of resting in the berry tree at night. Each one, useful in disposing of the five hounds. One by one if he had to.

It wasn't even so farfetched to imagine Spyro, Cynder, or for God's sake, some _random stranger_ to enter the battle without prior notice and not only tank all hostile strikes but also sweep the forest clearing clean of these five enemies.

True, Joshua Renalia would easily survive this new ordeal if any of these things happened. But there'd have to be something wrong in his head if the teenager actually _anticipated_ these improbable events, as only a naïve person detached from reality, or a recalcitrant youth living in denial, would fixate themselves on these potential avenues of escape, regardless of their improbability.

The Death Hounds surrounding Joshua kept the young man firmly rooted in real life. Rather than wasting the few precious seconds afforded to him on wishful thinking and other stupid thoughts, the human being brought his stick down just as the Alpha went for a vicious tackle.

His automatic reflex stopped death from claiming him at the onset.

A shame it failed to save him from the Alpha's momentum. The impact knocked Joshua off his precarious perch. "Oh crap!" he yelled. His back struck the branch immediately below him—"OW!"—and his descent continued.

Surely he'd fare better with a height advantage. At least he wouldn't have four dogs trying to eviscerate him alive, all at once. He landed on a second branch, and as soon as he felt it, he reached out. Joshua didn't give a damn if he just fractured or cracked a bone. He didn't care if he got cut or bruised. He had to—he **needed** to get a good grip—and he missed.

He _missed!_

"AHHHHH!" Joshua screamed. He saw the forest floor in his peripheral vision. It was closer. _Much_ closer. He glimpsed the four—the _five_ pairs of yellow eyes gawping up at him eagerly, a split second before the third bough came into view. It was the last one. He had to make this count.

His hand shot out one final time. Success breathed down on him. Joshua held onto the thin but sturdy limb for dear life. In spite of all his efforts, it could not stop the momentum of his descent. The brown-skinned human continued falling. From his perspective it felt like an eternity before his desperate hold resisted the pull of gravity.

Great agony flared from his shoulder as the sudden stop almost dislocated it from a bone socket. He nearly lost his grip. "F*CK!" Joshua shouted, sweating profusely.

His ordeal had only just begun.

A howl from the Alpha reminded the teenager how he got into this mess in the first place. Viridian eyes glanced down in time to watch one of the wolves fly from the ground and open its massive jaw. Joshua lifted his feet at once. "Yikes!" A propitious evasion.

He tried to regain his bearings, but the Death Hounds knew their prey was struggling. They did not let up. Two more jumped and snapped at his feet. Joshua panted as he raised his feet again, although noticeably slower than the first time around. A third followed suit, and this time it would have enough time to clamp its sharp teeth on—

Joshua smacked its snout with his stick. "Get the f*ck away from me!"

Having recovered, the first made its second attempt at his dangling body. Joshua backhanded the Death Hound's cheeks, hurtling it back to the forest floor whimpering. Heart beating rapidly, the teenager pulled himself up his only lifeline in this entire ordeal.

Or rather, he _attempted to_ and flunked this crucial test. Joshua Renalia was not one of those kids who liked to work out and play sports of the physical sort. He enjoyed video games almost as much as he enjoyed downing a few beers with his high school classmates and hanging out at the shopping mall with his little, five-man clique, if he could call it that.

Someone who couldn't do a single pull-up in P.E. had no chance at making one even if his life depended on it.

Joshua's body dangled down again. He braced himself for another narrow evasion, another well-timed strike at the snout when the Alpha soared faster, much faster than he predicted. Its decayed fangs crunched down on his foot, penetrating his trousers, his skin, his _bones_ with ease. Joshua Renalia shrieked as the shock of something sinking into his flesh jolted throughout his entire body and caused him to flinch.

To let go.

The human knew he was in deep, _deep_ trouble when he felt the soil come up on his rear. Heightened terror seeped in; his first instinct directed him to pummel the butt of the stick on the Alpha's nose. The attack descended hard, and the large Death Hound was forced to release him.

Its malodorous breath wafted into Joshua's nose. He would have flinched from revulsion if he hadn't been so terror-stricken, so focused on surviving this. One of the other wolves dashed for him, and he had only a split-second to duck and roll to avoid getting his head sandwiched between sharp teeth. The third Hound came for Joshua as he rose to his feet.

The boy thwacked it with his stick, and to his astonishment, the dog merely _shrugged off_ the blow. Hell, the way it narrowed its eyes at him, he started thinking all his attacks only **annoyed the predators** at this point instead of inflicting actual damage. _This is bad._

Eyes darted left and right. The pack surrounded him. Pools of purple saliva gathered on the ground as they approached him, as they stalked towards him with the intent to kill and feast on fresh meat—on an animal foreign to this forest and hopelessly lost.

_Very bad._

He backed away slowly as the beasts padded closer. Joshua stumbled when he backpedaled on his injured foot, wincing at the pure, utter _torture_ spiking every time he put some weight on this gammy leg. One of the goddamn dogs moved in, but jolted to a stop when Joshua thrust the stick in its direction.

_Making sudden moves now_, he noticed. Sweat cascaded Joshua's brown cheeks. He couldn't underestimate these predators. There was no way in hell Joshua would put something like anything resembling strategy past them, however basic it seemed to a trained eye. He needed an equalizer of some sort. A way to put as much distance between him and the pack. Maximize the window of opportunity for escape.

Green eyes latched onto the glowing clusters of HP and mana gems, growing out of the ground adjacent to each other, about fifteen meters away. _Yes_, he approved. _That can work. That can definitely buy me some—_

"AWOOOOOOOOOOO!"

It came from behind.

Joshua Renalia swerved around to deflect the accursed animal with one good thump on... emptiness.

Nothing was there.

_VERY, VERY BAD!_

The pitter-patter approached from the right. He rotated in time to catch a Death Hound charging at him. Joshua swung the stick once and landed a solid hit on the dog's neck, forcing it back. Another wolf grunted almost next to him.

"Yiii!" Joshua veered to slap the animal away, but instead his stick headed straight for the Alpha's waiting maw. No words adequately described Joshua's shock, Joshua's astonishment at the turn of events. Compared to _The Eternal Night_, these damnable canines exhibited much greater intelligence—much greater alacrity in real life.

How could this be? Joshua Renalia recalled many of the times he fought packs of Death Hounds, manipulating Spyro expertly with his PlayStation controller. He fought these dogs expertly, without resorting to Dragon Time. Their tackles could be timed and anticipated. A single blow from the purple dragon stunned them for much longer than a whack with his stick. **None of these creatures** displayed the acumen Joshua was seeing for himself.

Climbing a tree to dislodge him…

Deceiving him with a feint…

Grabbing his only weapon mid-swing…

Since when, since f*cking when were the Death Hounds even capable of this? The decisions enacted by the programmers at Krome Studios were **law**. Their work _dictated_ how things took place in the Dragon Realms, did it not?

None of this was in the video games.

These wolves shouldn't—

The Alpha broke Joshua out of his trance when it pulled the stick out of his hands. Fortunately the human reacted quick enough to catch the weapon before it truly flew out of his reach. "Oh no you don't!" He tightened his grip and pulled back. Pulled **harder**.

His opponent growled menacingly and put even more strength into its pull.

Joshua's only lifeline almost slipped out of his hand. It nearly dislocated his _other _shoulder just to keep it in his grip. He couldn't let it go. If he lost this, he was **defenseless**. And if he was defenseless, he was…

He was…

The teenager roared in defiance and tugged the stick back into his grip. Green eyes watched the Alpha hold on still, but he wasn't about to relinquish and let it win this stupid tug of war. He raised his foot, reared it back. It wouldn't seriously hurt his opponent, he knew, but if it meant living for a few more moments, for a few more minutes, then one kick in the snout was worth all the—

More footsteps.

Another bestial snarl.

Joshua Renalia saw one of the Death Hounds coming to help, flanking him with one soaring leap. Its yellow eyes set on him, its every move determined to support its pack leader and secure fresh meat. Adrenaline flowed throughout him now, as every process in his mind concentrated on finding a way out of this.

The way the noisome, furry wolf leaped reminded Joshua of Crystal Dynamics' recent _Tomb Raider_ reboot. A memory of Lara Croft, the game's main character, with her leg caught in a bear trap with nothing but a bow and a handful of arrows to fend off hungry wolves hiding within the shrubs. Every time a wolf attacked, time slowed down to a crawl as it pounced.

As the player, what should have been half a second became five. Maybe even seven. Insufficient time to remain lax throughout the quick event, but just enough to stay on his toes and take out the animals one by one.

If his new life here in Spyro's world was a video game, time should have crawled to a halt.

As the player character, time should have given Joshua the opportunity to sidestep this intruding assailant, if not repel the dog with whatever he could scrounge up in this moment.

But it didn't.

Reality simply was not wired that way. After all, real life never **did** give a shit about the people it stabbed in the back.

The Death Hound completely blindsided Joshua. In that brief trice of time, its enormous and resilient head throttled him and sent the human being hurtling—he heard the stick **snap**—and before Joshua could react, the wild wolf slashed at his waist.

Drawing blood.

Two of the other dogs paused and took a few seconds to howl. A howl of _victory_. There was going to be a hearty feast tonight, with one tender, juicy alien on the menu!

The Alpha spat out half of Joshua's weapon and padded slowly after the two of them. Meanwhile the wolf responsible for the ugly gash running across his left side reared back and snapped at his neck.

Joshua instinctively jerked his arm up as a last-ditch effort. Serrated teeth sliced through the bare skin and he yelped when the Death Hound bit down **hard**. He felt, no, he **heard** his very bones crack, and blood gushed out from the new wounds. The saliva seeped in, and Joshua realized it was acidic after everything the fluid touched produced a burning and agonizing sensation. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

He saw the Alpha coming. He saw the HP gems, only a few steps away. _Damn it! _Joshua grunted, fighting hard to stay calm, to keep the panic from truly ending this life-or-death struggle. A window of opportunity gleamed at him, and the teenager took it before it closed and sentenced him to death by voracious animals. Who cared if it was the right choice? Who cared if it would have killed him a few moments later? For now, for this moment, this **was** the right choice, and _nothing_ else mattered.

Joshua Renalia thrust his half of the stick into the wolf's throat. He wiggled the torn bough into its salivating mouth and shoved it into the throat as far as his waning strength allowed. He felt it strike the Death Hound's palate. Though it failed to penetrate the inner flesh, it surprised the beast and caused it to stumble and roll over.

Inadvertently obstructing the Alpha and the other wolves.

A few seconds of time. Precious, precious time.

Whenever Spyro's health fell below 30%, Joshua's typical response called for temporarily stunning the enemies with Ice Tail and making a beeline for the nearest HP crystals.

Now, Joshua's instinct commanded him to do the same.

He got up and hobbled to the scarlet crystals glowing in the dark. It took only a couple of seconds for him to reach the cluster of Spirit Gems and pound at it with a hammer fist. "Gggh," he suppressed a squeal of pain. They may be brittle, but they were _painful_ to break off. Joshua ignored the stinging in his hands and grabbed what fragments fell off from the cluster.

He absorbed the Spirit Gems and took in their energy. The crystals would turn gray and structurally deteriorate in seconds, but an idea took hold in Joshua's mind. He threw the decaying crystals at the pack before they dissolved. A few struck between the eyes and caused their targets to fall over, alive but down for a few scant moments.

_Okay_, he thought to himself. He had a game plan now. _Heal up to 100%, toss a few to keep 'em away, grab as many as I can, and then run like hell_. He didn't know where he would go from here, but as far as he was concerned, the farther the better!

The instinct to survive alone fueled him. It drove him to do whatever it took.

All of Joshua's wounds vanished after as little as three seconds holding on to fragments of the HP gems. His cracked and fractured bones regenerated—and agonizingly so, but surprisingly the young man held his composure well before the five bloody jaws of doom.

Time for step two.

He elbowed the cluster and caught some fragments as they fell. Joshua haphazardly hurled them at the Death Hounds, aware they couldn't absorb them as he could. He put his faith into his newfound marksmanship and scattered the shards with the hopes of repelling the wolves, even blind them.

Steps three and four followed.

The human snapped off a few large pieces of the HP Crystals and turned to run. Run into the yawning, ubiquitous darkness.

Instead he run straight into the Alpha, which eluded most of Joshua's scattered Spirit Gems. The largest of the five Death Hounds slammed into his solar plexus with such force the human coasted a meter or two until his back crashed into the green crystals growing out of the ground.

He was dazed.

Joshua stirred. His hands quaked, searched for purchase in the grass—

Two paws fell on both biceps and planted themselves there, pinning the boy down. A horrified moan escaped him.

"No."

Glistening teeth filled his vision. A foul tongue hung over him. Acidic saliva pooled on his face, dripped into his mouth. But Joshua couldn't spit it out, for he was too busy reeling from the putrid fumes wafting from the Death Hound's fetid breath. Being so close to this rank animal made him recoil in disgust.

He tried—

He **couldn't** move.

"No!"

The Alpha licked its chops once more, and—oh _f*ck_, did it just _smile_?

Finality descended on Joshua Renalia, who watched the pack leader bend down and open its jaws, wide enough to fit his head from the neck up. "No, no, no!" He tried to block it off, to move the goddamn mouth and all its teeth away from him. But his arms lacked the strength. His posture lacked any sort of foundation.

"Noooooo!" He wasn't going to die like this. He refused to die like this! He didn't trek all this way today in the Dragon Realms just to become f*cking **dog food**. "Get off me! GET THE HELL OFF ME!"

All his efforts to keep the canine away were useless; the Alpha ignored his annoying, futile scuffles and went for the kill. Joshua's eyes dilated when he felt the Death Hound finally clamp its jaws on him, around his neck. Panic erupted to its maximum point, and Joshua was so far down this rabbit hole he closed his eyes and capitulated.

Unintelligible screams rushed out of Joshua's mouth. He pushed and pulled and flailed, doing everything he could do. Indescribable terror and distress consumed every bit of him. Literally all of Joshua concentrated on ending this nightmare. All his mental processes. All his desperate punches, his desperate kicks. All the mindless words gushing out of his mouth.

Every inch of his body tingled with this yearning for dear, sweet **LIFE**. It was the only thing the teenager wanted. Right here, right now.

For a moment, he did not care about the Dragon Realms. He did not care about Warfang. He moved away from the thought of meeting Spyro, of meeting Cynder, of seeing everything he once considered fiction turned into reality.

He forgot all the things he took for granted in 21st century Earth. He forgot all his friends from home. Even his girlfriend. Even the normal life, the loving family he left behind. The sweet smile of his mother. His father's knowing grin. The awestruck eyes and affection of his younger siblings.

On the verge of death, Joshua Renalia forgot **everything**. He distilled his entire personhood away from everything and anything **irrelevant** to the present. He concentrated his very self on the overwhelming will to live and nothing else.

During that last remaining instant before the monster snapped his neck, with nothing left to lose, Joshua put _everything_ into one last act of desperation and punched the Death Hound on the side as though a flailing, random cuff from a young man a hair's breadth away from dying could turn the tides.

And against all odds…

Against the unanimous cruelty of reality…

.

.

.

Everything changed.

The set of teeth locked on his neck vanished. The massive bulk pinning Joshua down disappeared with it. Even the hungry yapping of the pack ceased.

_Huh? I, I'm fine. I'm s-st, still okay!  
_

Joshua slowly sat up, and opened his eyes.

.

.

.

He gasped.

The largest of the five wolves sprawled next to him. Its body was stiff. Its head, unmoving. Its naked chest, discolored by an ugly, unnatural black.

Joshua looked ahead and, to his surprise, found the four other dogs gaping at him, casting a gaze something he thought was fear. Scratch that. It **was** fear. He knew it as a fact, even if Joshua found it impossible to describe the knowledge in words.

What happened? Why was the Alpha flopped on the ground like that? Why was he still alive—

An enraged and vicious growl made him wince. Joshua eyed the noisy wolf, the largest of the remaining four. By no means was it a close contender with the fallen pack leader, but even he could imagine the damn thing claiming second place.

The rancorous Death Hound rushed the raven-haired teenager with paws extended, with claws aimed for his neck. His life once again under duress, Joshua Renalia had no time to do anything else, to say anything else, except raise his arms and, with hands still stinging, still prickling from a combination of exhaustion and panic, shove the creature back—

Bright light illuminated the entire clearing around him, as though the sun decided to defy the will of the two moons in the middle of the night. Joshua's mouth hung in the air as **plumes** of white, glowing clouds poured out of his hands. He watched his own palms act as floodgates, allowing the **impossible** to inundate the space between him and this damnable animal seeking his death.

This strange _thing_ emerged from Joshua's own body with nary a noise. Whatever it was, it impacted the Death Hound square in the face.

Then the wolf fell on the spot.

Death glazed its eyes.

As soon as it collapsed, the three surviving members of the pack whimpered from unspeakable fright and fled into the safety of the shadows, never to show their muzzles before the unexpected threat awakening before them.

But Joshua Renalia no longer paid attention to the fleeing wolves.

Unable to believe, to _process _what had just transpired in front of him, Joshua Renalia did nothing but gaze at his hands for minutes he did not bother to count. Those were the same hands that **killed** the Death Hound. The same hands that produced swirling hazes of **something**, as though they were capable of it all his life. He did not feel a thing when it gushed out of his arms without warning. His limbs did not turn into metaphorical cavities, throbbing with the sensation of ejecting this strange matter at will. The inscrutable feeling corresponded with none of the five senses and also with all of it, at the same time. As if his situational awareness expanded and shrunk to the extremes simultaneously.

All this time the young man thought his unexpected trip to the Dragon Realms changed nothing at all, when it altered his constitution.

When it gave him something.

Something to turn the tables on his enemies.

Something to survive the ruthless world of Spyro the Dragon.

To think he actually _had_ a power! That explained why—how he could absorb the Spirit Gems. Maybe that also explained how he miraculously avoided death when it counted. Joshua smiled at the thought. He thanked God for his blessings.

_Now comes the fun part_, Joshua thought, forgetting the ordeal he barely escaped from a couple minutes ago.

Remembered exactly how it felt like, just like before the teenager raised his hand and channeled his memory of the unfathomable sensation through his arms. He attempted to call on this strange power…

.

.

.

And just like before, nothing happened.

What was amazement rapidly shifted into confusion. Why didn't it respond to him now? Why wouldn't the power emerge from any of his hands? Joshua believed it too incredible to forget how it coursed through his body, how it contradicted reality as he knew it and both expanded _and_ narrowed his self-awareness.

Then it hit him.

He knew nothing about this power.

Absolutely nothing.

It did not correspond to **any** of the eight elements introduced in the _Legend of Spyro_ trilogy. Neither did it seem related to Convexity, the native, destructive element of the purple dragon. Now that he reflected on it more cogently, Joshua had never heard of an element capable of instantly killing—

Wait a minute. **Instant** death?

Only now did Joshua Renalia sweep his eyes across the environment around him, assisted by the light of the twin moons and the soft glow of the nearby Spirit Gems. The Death Hound those enigmatic clouds engulfed completely still lied on the grass in front of him. But instead of something like glass coating its eyes, blood now flowed profusely from all the orifices in its muzzle: its ears, its nostrils, its mouth. Even its eyes.

The entire snout drowned in deep, glistening red.

He turned to the fallen Alpha, and blanched at the sight of the deceased behemoth. Despite the dim lighting all around him, even with limited night-vision Joshua still perceived a black and discolored area covering the wolf's entire torso.

_Where I punched it._

He edged closer and touched the darkened region. It felt hard, for it had become a lifeless lump. Regrettably, as a young teenager with very little knowledge of the world, Joshua Renalia did not know what to make of this. Had he been older, had he had some knowledge of modern medicine, he might have recognized the Alpha's injury as **necrosis**.

The premature and irreversible death of localized areas of the body, **at the cellular level**.

If Joshua had a blade on him tonight, he could have cut the corpse open and found the Death Hound's heart, stomach, and lungs all turned a repulsive bistre: a dark, grayish black color. They were all rotten and decaying notwithstanding the animal's fresh demise.

Unfit to eat, and just as unfit to see.

Examining the two cadavers to some degree made Joshua Renalia realize what exactly he had done to the two Death Hounds. One was snuffed in an instant. The other must have experienced multiple organ failure in the same span of time. A sickening dread leached down into his core.

This was not a blessing to embrace.

This was not an element to play with.

When Joshua first imagined himself with any of the eight elements, he envisioned waving tongues of fire from his hands, blasting the air with yellow balls of electricity, or conjuring spikes of ice with the mind alone. He even pictured himself as an earthbender, fashioning walls and structures with the very ground he walked.

The fanboy in Joshua dared to dream of sparring with either Spyro or Cynder in a Dragon Temple. He aspired to grow and develop under the watchful gaze of the Guardians, to be a hero like his two favorite videogame characters of all time.

Not once did he ever anticipate **this**.

A power beyond his understanding.

A power beyond his control.

A power so dangerous he may just kill something without meaning to.

Joshua Renalia shuddered from the dreadful realization. He was so terribly shaken by the sheer brutality he had committed and the atrocities his hands were capable of that he vomited and passed out on the spot.

And against all odds, Joshua never forgot these grisly images ever again.

No matter what he did.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

When I first set forth to make my *ehem* half-assed attempt at a deconstruction of a "Trapped in TV Land" _Spyro_ fic, I wanted to make _Aimless_ play out as realistic as possible, where Joshua's the naïve and excited gamer kid who thinks he's about to have his greatest fantasies brought to life, only to experience the horrors of reality.

But the more I mapped out my outline for _Aimless_, the more I realized humans **simply** didn't belong in the Dragon Realms (or Avalar or Skylands or whatever the corporate owners of the _Spyro_ franchise decide to call it), not unless humans were a part of it in the first place. My hand was forced to give Joshua Renalia a power. An element he can call his own.

Why? Because it was the only way he could survive.

To explain my reasoning, let's look at the fans who write the generic Human-Turned-Dragon and Human-in-the-Realms ("HIR") stuff. How many of them practice martial arts every week, **and **spar with others at that? How many of them shoot guns for a hobby? How many of them have had real-life survival training? If the many HTD and HIR stories I've read as well as all the bashing these people get from Tokowh (the person in charge of the _Infinite Loops_ compilation) and some other members of the community indicate anything, it would be a clear and resounding **ZERO**.

So if 98% of these writers don't know shit when they write out their wish fulfillment fantasies, how can someone intended to represent them encounter five enemies known in _Spyro _lore to be quick and deadly and **also **live to see another day afterward?

See what I mean?

Anyway, now that I made my point across, I am honestly excited for this story. I have a host of reasons for deliberately giving Joshua this unknown element, and they are all connected to _Aimless_ being a deconstruction of the hundreds of "Trapped in TV Land" stories available on the _Spyro_ archives here at FFN. Also, for the record, I already have an outline of what sort of things this power is capable of, and I gotta say, I am liking the opportunities it gives me to play with the characters.

Just imagining all the _shit_ I can do to subvert the common "HIR" and "HTD" tropes, **especially** after Joshua arrives at Warfang, makes me just want to write this story even more. And guess what? I hate it! Damn it, I hate the fact I feel this way. What began as a side project to take a break from my main story is now serving as a more effective distraction than I ever anticipated, and it pisses me off. Writing the 4.5K words used in this chapter took about three days. Three days I could have used for my main story! Argh!

Ugh. Okay. Soooo, that's my rant for this update. Hopefully I can stay away from the deep hole _Aimless_ is steering me into, just long enough to throw in another 10K into my main fic. I've taken a break from that long enough! DX


	4. Something New

**Chapter 4: Something New**

* * *

"_Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame."_

\- Benjamin Franklin

* * *

Joshua raised a russet hand. His palm faced a cluster of pine trees.

.

_The sensation of pins and needles making stitches across his entire body._

.

He emptied his thoughts, and concentrated on his hand and those trees, nothing else.

_._

_Complete blindness to everything and anything, save for his body, his breathing, and his target._

.

Not the heat of the sun filtering down onto his body.

Not the animals scampering out of sight.

Not the leaves slowly falling to the uneven ground.

_._

_And at the same time…_

.

The stranded teenager envisioned the unnaturally white clouds and complemented this vision with the image of a running, out-of-control pipe, wasting gallons upon gallons of water every second.

He shut his eyes.

.

…_the total, conscious awareness of his self bleeding into everything and anything._

.

A few seconds passed, and Joshua hoped all this hard mental work produced something.

A few more seconds passed, and Joshua felt, no, he could imagine something wafting out of his palm like a fog machine.

He opened his eyes when it felt right to do so, and thus Joshua Renalia cast his emerald gaze forward to find…

**Absolutely f*cking nothing**.

He kicked the nearest tree out of frustration. "GODDAMMIT!"

Why? Did Joshua lack focus? Did he invoke the wrong images, or the wrong set of memories? What was going on here?

**Why** in the Dragon Realms couldn't he reproduce the "unknown element" again?

The following morning after the Death Hound incident three nights ago, Joshua woke up next to a repulsive pile of dried vomit with a decision, swirling in his head, to investigate the nature of his power. His gamer mind had postulated that what happened to the Alpha and its second-in-command could have been an extreme, uncontrolled burst. Maybe his ability—his very own _element_—had some utility functions beyond simply killing things outright. After all…

Fire could be used to cook, to shape and make.

Ice could be used to preserve and to provide comfort.

Electricity could be used to introduce some modern human conveniences to the Dragon Realms (only if Joshua fully remembered the Wikipedia articles about them).

Earth could be used to construct, to fortify.

If any of the traditional elements—if any of Spyro's powers had their own use in a peaceful life, then perhaps even he had some chance at being normal. He would need every help he could get, Joshua figured. Human beings were genetically related to primates—**apes**, an antagonistic species that had sided with the Dark Master's war during the _Legend of Spyro _trilogy. He simply did not know—and refused to speculate—how exactly someone like him would be treated in Warfang upon arrival, but possessing an element that had no apparent purpose except senselessly killing something was not going to help him win any favors from its citizens.

That assumes he _did_ come into a peaceful era. For all Joshua knew, maybe there was a higher force at work. A great destiny to fulfill.

If that was truly the case, then the Chronicler was definitely **not** involved in this. Joshua Renalia remembered what he'd done the other morning.

An hour after waking up on the ground—alive!—from that dreadful night, the youth found three clusters of Spirit Gems. One of each type, all clustered around an empty space, as though curiously arranged by a higher power. Joshua recalled seeing Spyro's and Cynder's wondered, mystified eyes when the Chronicler pulled a trick that will be immortalized by Master Eon in _Skylanders_, appeared to them in the crystals as a disembodied head, and educated them of their elemental abilities.

It was a no-frills spoonfeeding, if his memories of that easily-forgettable scripted CGI event right. No fainting into an otherworldly realm that reflected a real location but existed only in a dream. No unseen voices in the head. No sudden discoveries of _force majeure_. Hell, there wasn't even a tutorial anymore.

And so Joshua Renalia took a seat in the middle of these three clusters and waited for Ignitus' face and his familiar voice to appear before him and…

Well, do whatever the Chronicler did, of course! How in the f*ck's name would he know before it even happened, right?

Maybe Ignitus would tell him how he was called into the Dragon Realms from Earth in a dream, swept up in an adventure to help save this world from darkness once again. Maybe he'd say the Almighty Father lent him to the Chronicler to test his faith and seek his fortune in a foreign yet familiar land. Maybe he'd even say how his "element" was one of a kind, like another face of Convexity and a person like him was just as rare as the Purple Dragon of Legend.

Joshua Renalia sat there and waited.

He waited.

Oh boy, how much he waited!

Joshua had lost track of the time, but he estimated he wasted **half a morning** waiting for a vision that would never appear, increasingly hungry and thirsty. When he had enough of sitting on his ass, the human got up, found another stick long and sturdy enough for walking, and used it to bash all three crystals until they splintered. "Thanks _a lot_, Ignitus," he grumbled morosely.

Then he went on his merry way. He took a sip from the creek—it was a small river now, actually—and pulled a couple of plants with small white flowers sprouting from its top like an inverted umbrella. He dunked the wild carrots in the creek to clean the thick, brown roots and ate them quickly, so he could detoxify at a cluster of HP gems when he found another one (and they blossomed out of the soil quite frequently).

Still, it wasn't as if he couldn't manifest the power in any way, shape, or form. Because ever since that night, Joshua Renalia realized how his body had naturally changed, became more attune to the surrounding nature.

Otherwise, there couldn't have been any explanation behind the fact he could now, by instinct, determine whether something is potentially dangerous to him, or accurately pinpoint the distance and direction of the nearest cluster of Spirit Gems **and** its probable type.

Or the fact his sense of self has extended much further, and he could now pick up the pulse of life within a certain range without looking. In fact, during the hours he spent waiting for Ignitus to show his recolored muzzle, Joshua sensed a small family of wild boars and some rather large insects minding their own business, just out of sight. It sounded crazy, but he just **knew** they were there.

Even now, three days after the Death Hound attack, Joshua recalled how **vividly** the wild carrots tasted (slightly sweet with the aftertaste of petrichor), how **loudly** the forest had become after waking up (a cricket 100 meters off startled him, sounding like a fire truck's siren), or how **sensitive** his feet were (he could feel vibrations caused underneath him by a rabbit or some other small forest critter). He also noted how there hadn't been another fateful encounter with a forest predator after murdering those two wolves, especially when he detected their close proximity.

Every instinct in his body, every thought in his mind postulated his _strange power_ granted him these passive abilities from the moment of his arrival in the Dragon Realms. Why it didn't manifest all at once, Joshua would never understand until after spending a month or two in Warfang, but it had taken its sweet time to manifest itself. Unleashing it full force must have "unlocked the gates" completely somehow, and now he walked around in the forest with a natural, God-given (he assumed) gift to survive it and no longer needed to keep a constant eye over his shoulder.

But despite this…

Everything he did to repeat what happened that night, to generate those white clouds again, or simply _bring his element into being_ in any tangible shape or form proved utterly **useless**. He couldn't produce anything no matter how much he tried. Nothing! **NOTHING!**

Joshua Renalia had seen many an animé series, had read many a comic book, had played many a video game, but not once had he ever encountered a story where the main character had a power that couldn't be brought out after the first time around.

These fruitless endeavors and perplexing thoughts flummoxed Joshua, and the teen no longer paid attention to his destination so long as he walked in a certain direction. He did not pay attention to the closeness of the canyon beginning to stretch out in the horizon (it was a six-hour walk away). He did not notice how the City of Dragons had, very slightly, grown bigger since the Death Hound attack. How could he observe the fact Joshua gradually neared his terminus, step by step, when he was simply too busy beating himself up over his conspicuous inability to evoke his power?

Something **must** be wrong with him. Joshua tapped into his augmented recognition—all five senses and even the inscrutable extension of his self—without even trying. Yet when he funneled 150% into one little thing, into one _super basic manifestation_, he **failed at it**. Countless times over.

None of this made sense. A power had no use when its owner couldn't even use it in the first place. There's **got** to be something he needed—

"—us alone!" cried a faraway voice. It sounded male, and the pulse of life coming from it did not correspond to any of the feral species he's seen so far in this forest. "We're just passing through here. We don't mean you any harm!"

"You are trespassing on **our** territory," responded another male, the voice hoarse. "And we don't particularly like _your _kind around here."

Nervousness climbed Joshua's spine. Sentient animals at last, huh? _This is something new._

As he sauntered towards the voice, nine signatures of life pulsed into his brain. He knew exactly where they were, and they weren't too far off from him. Probably 200 meters, give or take. His augmented hearing amazed him.

"Your territory?" reiterated the first, his pitch rising from incredulity. "_Your_ territory? Don't you **realize** how close this is to Warfang?"

"Of course I do, but I am only carrying out the commands of my superiors, and I don't see any reason why I should reject them. The way I see it, everything on **this side** of the Dry Canyon is up for grabs and we **are** claiming it for ourselves."

Of these three pulses, three flared intermittently. They fluctuated between intense enough to pull him closer towards the group and insignificant enough as to meld with the insects and forest animals. These three were clearly distressed, and had the boy focused on it, he might have felt the rapid beating of their hearts. Might have experienced a different kind of fear rising in his chest.

But Joshua did not do that now.

For a third voice entered the conversation. Male, and just as hostile as the second. "Haha! And you walked! You **walked**! How stupid is _that_? Did'ja think you'd avoid border patrols like _us_?"

Joshua wanted to stay quiet, to remain unseen and unfound. The brown-skinned human crouched down and held his walking stick close to him, this time keeping an eye on anything it may hit by mistake. _All right_, he thought. _Just a few more bushes and I can see what's going on._

"Malefor had a massive army of orcs and wyverns four years ago!" hollered the first in response. It had a twinge of youth in it. If it was human, Joshua reckoned he'd have been more or less sixteen years old. A couple years older than him. "He may be gone now, but those **monsters** definitely went somewhere, and we didn't want to take any chances on our way to Warfang!"

Two more shrubs. Only a little more…

The second voice retorted, "And you thought _we_ would give you safe passage?"

A fourth voice intruded in support of the first. Male as well, but it seemed younger this time around. "Yeah, yeah!"

A fifth speaker tried to interject. "Lani," said the voice. It was female, and also as young. This one did not hurt Joshua's ears as much as the others. "Let Explodon take care of this."

Lani apparently ignored her. "Didn't the Purple Dragon save you guys anyway? Malefor cursed you all and now you're free thanks to him! You should be helping us dragons—

"Shhhh!" hushed the third voice. "Noisy little boy."

Joshua's sensitive hearing caught the almost inaudible creaking of a string, the bending of wood. An arrow swooshed in the air before anyone could react, and it struck its mark. "AHHH!"

The fifth cried out, "Ancestors!"

"Kilat," commanded Explodon. "Stay back! Lani, don't move, I'll come and—

Joshua had one more bush to go, and he moved more slowly than ever. An arrow like that could kill him before much, much quicker than he could figure out how to jizz the "glowing, white clouds of doom" out of his arms.

"Take another step and we will kill him," warned the second voice. It was clearly the ringleader of the six pulses, standing still without the trademark volatility of distress or anxiety. "Take this to heart, _reptile_," he addressed Lani. "We hate your kind **more than ever** after the Dark Master fell."

The human put a hand on the bush. Now or never…

"We sided with Malefor to _cleanse_ this world of you lizards." The speaker hawked a glob of phlegm and spat it out; the spittle landed close—too close to Joshua's hand, and the crouching human froze in place. "We believed he was different, that he respected our free will. But then he _cursed_ us for our service, and we were freed only because **our most infamous enemy** destroyed the Dark Master.

"The Apes do not bear a grudge against the Purple Dragon himself for restoring our bodies and our minds, but that does not mean we bear any less animosity for you lot."

Joshua Renalia slowly parted the last bush to reveal the small clearing beyond, and the sight within astounded him.

Three dragons and six apes, as he conjectured. But the finer details beyond that stunned the human.

The three dragons stood at one end of the clearing. A green one was slumped on the grass, panting, quivering as red ichor drizzled out of its foreleg thanks to the arrow impaled on it. _This one must be Lani. _A dragon born with the characteristic gold of the Electricity element had curled into the grass, ogling the scene unfolding before it, shivering from what Joshua experienced firsthand as dread and the rising disquiet of failure. _Kilat. _The last was a red dragon, wings flared out in full, unbridled hostility and claws starting to radiate the telltale auburn of flame. _And Explodon._

The six apes surrounding them terrified Joshua. Two of them were colorless silhouettes camouflaged by the forest, barely visible due to some power of invisibility. _Ape Commanders, taken straight out of Eternal Night_. The other three bore a machete, a spear, and a bow, all gleaming from expert craftsmanship and made more intimidating by the light and the way these gray-furred mandrills twirled them skillfully.

Joshua's heart went out to the three dragons at once. The two Earth and Electric dragons were far younger than he imagined them to be. They seemed even smaller than Spyro had been during _A New Beginning_, and he bet they sported none of the moves, none of the agility, none of the skill the Dragon of Convexity possessed in the video games. In his green eyes, Explodon was the only one capable of fighting, yet the fire dragon stood as tall and proud as Spyro only could in _Dawn of the Dragon _as though the terrible odds did not exist._  
_

Explodon looked like an adolescent in over his head, facing enemies with more experience and more skill than him. Surely the fire dragon knew this, yet he still bore his burgundy horns and claws in a defiant yet prideful stance. All for the two kids.

"At least spare Kilat and Lani. They are innocent. Ancestors, they're just **children**! They've seen no more than ten winters, twelve at the most! I _beg_ you, let them continue on to Warfang in peace. They… they haven't been near other dragons their age since the Terror of the Skies—

Kilat opened her gold muzzle, her girlish voice protesting. "But Explodon! We can't—

The fire dragon drowned her voice out. "I PROMISE YOU!" He shouted. "I promise _by the Ancestors_ I'll let you do **anything** you want with me."

"I do not care for your promises, dragon," stated the sixth and final ape, walking into view to glare down at the adolescent reptile. Joshua barely withheld his gasp at the fearsome power that throbbed from the massive war hammer in this ape's hand, swathed in azure flames. Then Joshua Renalia discovered something new, a detail that never existed in the _Legend of Spyro_ trilogy. "We will bring you to our city."

This last ape had the black fur and muscular body of a gorilla…

"My friends back home will want you to suffer." It revealed its sharp canines at the three dragons.

…and the bare face of a _male human_.

"**All **of you."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Clearly the time was right to escalate matters in the pre-Warfang section of the story. What, you thought Joshua was only going to start running into other sentient species when he gets to Warfang? Nope. Nosiree. The rich diversity of the _Spyro_ series (both the original and _Legend_ trilogies) and the fact the Dragon Realms is mostly unexplored in-game drastically raises the probability of other species entering the mix.

And yes, I am aware that the Dragon Temple was ransacked in an act of genocide during the Year of the Dragon. (I assume Spyro was 12 years old when he set out of the swamp in _A New Beginning_. I did not see anything referencing his age, and I think it would be quite poetic if he showed up during the very next YotD.) But consider that the Dragon Realms were not fully explored. So once variances in regional characteristics are accounted for, there should be a high probability that: (1) the YotD was merely a species tradition that more or less tracked the gestation period of dragonkind; and (2) not all dragons had their eggs in literally one place in the entire planet.

Oh, there's also a real life warning for those reading this story. If you happen to be hiking somewhere, you're hungry, and you do find a plant with a white flower shaped like an upside-down umbrella, **do not automatically assume it is edible because it may not be a wild carrot**. The wild carrot bears a very striking resemblance to a _water hemlock_, the most poisonous plant in North America, and they are unfortunately commonplace, if I understood my research correctly.


	5. To Be Human

**Author's notes:**

Happy Easter, everyone!

Oh, and trigger warning. Grisly scene coming along.

Enjoy the chapter. I hope it exceeds your expectations.

* * *

**Chapter 5: To Be Human**

"_There are times when you find yourself standing by the wayside, watching as someone struggles to dig a well with a spoon, and you wish with all your heart you had arms and a shovel."_

\- Richelle E. Goodrich

* * *

Joshua Renalia gawked at the gorilla—ape—man—_thing_ staring the Fire Dragon down. The way this primate was so _different and alien _to the other five apes frightened the teenager. Why didn't any of the games show an enemy like this? Why did a human-like ape emerge only after Malefor's fall?

Joshua quaked at the sight of a f*cking gorilla baring his fangs at Explodon, with not so much fear as it was grim determination pooling in those brown eyes. This was **not** normal. This was **not** something he felt familiar with. Suddenly, Joshua Renalia felt small, felt once again how he did not belong here, in the Dragon Realms…

"_All of us_?" roared the crimson dragon. He swiped at the human-like gorilla, but his attack was blocked by the war hammer in its hand. "Don't you know mercy? They're kids. They're **kids**!"

The gorilla-man—and from then on, Joshua called him _Oogabooga_ just to keep his wits—had but one thing to say. "**Only** the Purple Dragon of Legend deserves the privilege of mercy."

"HYPOCRITES!" Explodon raged. He gulped down one deep, one massive breath and exhaled a massive wave of fire. Orange flames blanketed the clearing, engulfing all he faced. At this moment, a twinge of fear came upon Joshua Renalia. These dragons were no less _dangerous_ than the apes were, than the forest predators were! Regardless of how nice or harmless they looked, each and every one could kill him easily. They could barbecue him, electrocute him, crush him, or freeze him, depending on their innate element. The videogames _never_ provided the player an opportunity to experience the perspective of an enemy. Consequently, Joshua Renalia never knew how fearsome—how _intimidating _a dragon's elemental attacks could be.

Until now.

Until he saw the rush of fire burn everything in Explodon's path, leaving behind only crisp shells of ash.

When Explodon could no longer unleash his fire breath, he turned his muzzle towards the two young dragons behind him. "Kilat, take Lani and go. Get to Warfang. Tell someone—anyone what the Apes are doing—

The pre-adolescent dragoness gaped at him. Joshua sensed a wall of hesitance pushing out of her sky blue eyes. "But, Explodon, I can't… we can't leave you. Not after—

_Oogabooga_'s orders came loud and clear despite the black smoke rising from the ashes before Explodon. "Secure these reptiles for a delivery to Aldozira. Do **whatever** it takes to get it done."

"Just go!" urged the eldest dragon. "JUST GO!"

Lani's startled cry shatters the air. "Kilat, look out!"

"Wha—

A hulking shimmering in the air had moved next to the Electric dragoness and seized her. She rose, as though flying without her wings, but she struggled. Behind the invisibility cloaking every inch of the Ape Commander, Joshua watched her kick and punch and bite, yet the massive baboon endured the _child's_ last ditch attempt to be free.

Explodon galloped to help the child. "You let her go now or I'll rip your—!" But after two steps, the Fire Dragon collided with an almost invisible barrier. He staggered back, just in time for a colorless silhouette to make a simple and easy movement and hurtle the dragon away from his two charges.

"Explodon!" cried Lani. His head turned immediately at Kilat's screams and, to his apparent alarm, her increasingly sluggish body. "Ancestors!" he groused. A green dragon a fifth smaller than Spyro in _A New Beginning_ limped his way towards the Electric dragoness as fast as he could. "Kilat, hold on, I'll—

Two small baboons, with their oversized torsos and gray, unkempt fur, somersaulted and flipped ahead of the Earth dragon. _Ape Soldiers_, Joshua recognized. The most common Ape enemy in the _Legend _trilogy. He remembered how they seemed fast the first time he (as Spyro) fought them in the Swamp, always coming at the Purple Dragon with nothing more but their arms.

Here, before Joshua's eyes, the Ape Soldiers demonstrated a speed not that much slower than their counterparts in the videogame, but they _did_ hold weapons. One of them rotated a staff in its arms. Lani forced himself to endure the arrow still sticking out of his leg and lunged. The green hue of the Earth element colored his claws, strengthening them to the point he could easily break the wooden weapon, no matter how well made it was. But the Ape Soldier caught Lani's forelegs at the right place and he swept the child away to the left, where its colleague waited so it could introduce the kid dragon to its dirty foot.

Still hidden in the brush (that _fortunately _had not been anywhere close to Explodon's fire breath), Joshua Renalia watched the Earth dragon fly a few meters from the blow and roll as he landed. He winced at Lani's injury—even recoiled when he heard the arrow _snap_. From this distance, he saw everything.

He felt _Oogabooga_'s pulse standing in one place, casually observing the battle in the clearing.

He saw Kilat slowing down, and felt her pulse of life fading out. Like a deep blue becoming lighter and lighter hued every second.

He felt the adolescent dragon still engaged in a fierce battle with the other Ape Commander, becoming more bruised in every round. Clearly Explodon was unmatched. A Purple Dragon of Legend, he definitely wasn't.

He watched Lani rise again, his legs shaking terribly as he forced himself to face the two Ape Soldiers.

And through the smoke, he felt—no, he sensed the presence of Spirit Gems growing out of the ground, as though the spirits of the Ancestors themselves possessed the mercy these godforsaken Apes did not, and performed the only thing within their power.

Unfortunately for the dragons, Joshua was not the only one who noticed.

"Ikurone!" yelled _Oogabooga_. "The Spirit Gems are coming out. Destroy them!"

"Ye-ye-ye-**yes sir!**" responded one of the two Ape Soldiers. It left Lani to its staff-wielding comrade and made a beeline for the cluster of green crystals sprouting close to Explodon. Joshua Renalia noticed the HP gems germinating out of the grass in front of him. The gamer in him easily recognized these Spirit Gems for what they were...

An opportunity.

An opening.

_The_ opening he needed to enter the fray and support the dragons. He could almost imagine Ignitus himself watching him from these crystals, beckoning him to come. To lend these disadvantaged group a hand.

Joshua Renalia primed his legs and readied his stick. He swallowed the glob of saliva pooling in his mouth. He steadied his grip and prepared to make his move, as the ape called Ikurone, like an acrobat on steroids, vaulted and rolled and flipped towards the cluster right in front of him.

Ikurone drew closer.

Closer.

Just a couple more steps—only a couple more moments, before a brown-skinned human burst out of the foliage and swing his walking stick at the sentient but _stupid _baboon with the full intent of cracking its skull. Surprise would no doubt descended upon both parties as a near-furless ape in gray trousers and a blue shirt joined the battle. However suspicious he would have been at the adolescent human, a sigh of great relief would come out of Explodon when he saw the unnamed primate immediately go for the invisible Ape Commander and give it one good smack at the neck to release Kilat.

Explodon's relief quickly transformed into great awe when, in an instant of divine intervention, the brown newcomer suddenly had the ability to strike down every single Ape he fought in a single blow regardless of skill differences, abusing a full and responsive control over a power—an _element_ he had never heard of in his entire life. And when the battle was over, he would turn a blind eye to the fact this creature seemed related to the Apes, thank him for the help, and even let this newcomer accompany the group to Warfang.

It all seemed too good to be true. It would've been difficult, if not impossible to believe.

In fact, had Joshua Renalia's foray into the Dragon Realms had been God's most gracious attempt to supply the teenager with his greatest, his most satiating, his most _fulfilling_ fantasy, then this was **exactly** how events would have played out.

But there was a gargantuan difference between reality and fantasy.

Reality **never** conformed to wishful thinking.

Reality **never** showed kindness for long and was _always _quick to disappoint.

Reality **never** made it effortless to accomplish the impossible.

And so in real life, Joshua Renalia did not spring out of the bushes. He did not kill the Ape Soldier when it descended upon the HP crystals in front of him. He did not help Kilat escape her predicament. He did not unleash the unparalleled might of his element to lay waste to these six apes.

In real life, Joshua Renalia **found his feet frozen to the spot**. His body quaked from fright. His mind, plagued by the countless ways even a mere Ape Soldier might just evade his attacks, despite the advantage of surprise. He couldn't pull himself away from the images of Explodon or even _Lani _coming at him, believing the human an additional threat. He thought of his fiery blasts cooking him alive, of Lani's Earth breath bludgeoning him into a bloody pulp.

Joshua willed his only power to activate, to cover his stick, his arms with the white glow of his element just as Explodon and Lani sheathed their claws in red and green. Again, the goddamn thing refused to respond to his will. Even now, when the three dragons needed him the most, Joshua couldn't bring out the great equalizer of instant death, no matter how much he—

The deep growl of the human-like gorilla Joshua called _Oogabooga_ snapped him out of his thoughts. "Nunebis. There is _someone_ watching us."

Joshua barely stopped himself from gasping. _Oh f*ck me hard!_ He edged to the clearing, peering into the battle unfolding therein.

The Ape Commander holding the weakened Kilat had stopped trying to keep a tight grip on the Electric dragoness. She had slumped on the burly baboon's invisible arms. "Sir, I am _busy_."

"I don't care! Look around and inspect the edges of the clearing. For some odd reason, I can't pinpoint where the intruder's scent is coming from."

"But this dragon—

"Do _whatever_ you have to do to immobilize her. I need you to find the intruder_._ **Now!**"

At _Oogabooga_'s last word, the invisible hulk of a baboon stopped everything he was doing and dropped even Kilat as though she was a hot potato. Joshua Renalia's gamer instincts took this as a cue to get the _hell_ away from this place, yet something stopped him. Joshua could not bring himself to turn away, even if he ultimately proved _useless_ by sitting in one place. He had to bear witness. He had to see how things played out. There _must_ be something he could do…

"Kilat," thundered Lani's voice. Green eyes veered back at the battle, where he saw the Earth Dragon child galloping to the Ape Commander. "I'm coming!" A green blast of light blew out of his maw. The Ape Soldier slid back from the attack. Lani exploited the new space, the child's wings tightening around his body as he darted around this one Ape Soldier so he could—

PAK!

The strong thump of the ape's staff disrupted Lani's attempt to bypass and assist the other young dragon. He tripped over himself and rolled into the grass, moaning in pain as he struggled to get to his feet again.

"Help!" yelled Kilat frantically. "Explodon, Lani! Help me! **HELP ME**!"

Kilat laid flat on her belly, her wings pressing in on her as if…

As if…

_Oh shit_, Joshua thought. The Ape Commander had her pinned beneath its foot.

He had an inkling of what the monstrous monkey was about to do. He could almost sense it. Between the way Kilat's pulse of life frantically flashed from weak to strong and strong to weak and back, and the way the Ape Commander's pulse _tightened_, coalescing into a cold, hard sphere…

Joshua raised his hand. He aimed it forward. Aimed it right at the large blur in the air above the young Electric dragon. The stranded teenager closed his eyes, fully invoking the image of a flowing hose. Of a great dam unloading its waters upon Malefor's Destroyer.

Of Spyro the Dragon overwhelming Gaul with the element of Convexity.

"Please," he muttered to himself. "Please do_ something_." All he wanted was one response. Just one little attack. **Anything **to get the damn Ape off the dragoness right **now**.

He did not care if Explodon considered him a threat. He did not care if Lani attacked him when he came out of the bushes. He just wanted to do something right then and there. To help Kilat when she needed it the most.

Joshua Renalia wished, with all his heart, for the white clouds to stream out of his arm and sentence the Ape Commander to death. _Goddammit, just f*cking listen to me for once! I need you now!_

In response to his pleas, Joshua was rewarded with screams.

.

.

.

**The screams of a young child.**

"N-no," Lani uttered weakly. "Y-you, you cruel…"

Joshua Renalia opened his eyes to a most horrific sight. Bright, scarlet blood pooled around the Electric dragoness, streaming out of a fresh, hideous **stump** that used to be her left wing. The latter was gone, reduced to tattered flesh and bones scattered near the young girl, still shrieking like a wailing rabbit.

Joshua fell on his hands and knees. Tears flowed out of his eyes. Why? He wanted to shout. **Why** did his power not work? _Why_ couldn't he bring it out this one time, this moment when **someone needed him**?

"**KILAT!**_"_ Explodon's voice shook the air. "You _accursed _apes. I'll **kill **you all!" A scorching heat, far more _roasting_ than his breath of fire, permeated the clearing. A Fire Fury was in the making, and had Joshua bore witness to it, he might have found it comparable to even Spyro's during _A New Beginning._

But Joshua Renalia never saw any of this. He still wept on his knees, green eyes boring a hole into the ground as he asked Jesus Christ—as he asked Ignitus—why the hell was he here in the Dragon Realms? What did he do to be _tormented_ like this? To be brought into what looked like the greatest fantasy he could've lived and then subjected to mental torture beyond his imagining.

Did he masturbate too often? Did he watch too much porn? Did he abuse God's name too much? Did he not show enough of his faith on Earth, preferring to dwell within his shelter of video games, animé, and other useless, frivolous things?

He nearly died of diarrhea. He nearly became dog food. He discovered a power that _refused_ to bend to his will. He felt so hopeless, so _worthless_ at his failure to help Kilat—to help the three dragons that Joshua Renalia wanted to take his stick and thrust it into his neck.

He wanted this nightmare to end.

He wanted to **go home**. Back to his mundane, but peaceful life as a normal, everyday teenager suffering from hormones, pimples, and girl problems.

Explodon's Fire Fury erupted in the clearing. A massive explosion engulfed the area, and the torrid flames shot above Lani's and Kilat's prone bodies to assault all six apes in the vicinity. The Fire Fury breached the boundaries of the clearing. Had Joshua Renalia paid more attention, he might have discovered—to his immense disappointment and grief—an almost invisible screen of white that encompassed his body, shielding him from the fire dragon's wrath.

"Lani! Take Kilat and get away! Go! **Anywhere but here.** She _needs_ red Spirit Gems! I'll buy you two some—OOF!"

The human-looking gorilla had dashed close to him, fur mostly unsinged thanks to the magic in his war hammer. He then slammed the weapon into Explodon's chest, breaking a couple of ribs. "Hmph," he snorted. "I should've just done this myself. Nunebis, Sari, are you two all right? Ikurone and Bohavain are dead."

"Barely holding on, sir," replied one of the Ape Commanders. "That Fury was powerful. We're lucky we had enough mana in our weapons."

"Good. Call for aid and summon some more Ape Soldiers for our group. Find those two dragons and _kill them_. They are giving us too much trouble and we are better off presenting their heads to Lord Caesar."

Explodon rose to his feet, eyes blazing with anger and determination. "Not, if I roast you all, **first!**" Orange flames coated his body. The Fire Dragon was as a blazing comet, hurtling straight into the man-gorilla and the two Ape Commanders with the crushing force of a meteorite.

A fierce battle transpired anew. One of the Ape Commanders would break off from the clearing to summon some more Ape Soldiers and pursue the two children. In the end, the Apes emerged triumphant with Explodon's head in their hands, muzzle agape from his agonized death. They beamed, relishing how they made the Fire Dragon suffer terribly before he joined his Ancestors in the Earth.

Joshua saw none of this.

For the teenager had long decided to leave. He felt sick at the sight of Kilat crumpled on the grass. He felt unworthy to stay and watch. Because he failed the three of them. He failed Ignitus. He failed God. He failed _them all_.

Joshua was no hero. He was just like Explodon: an adolescent in over his head. Even with his unique element, it was clear as day that the human did not belong in the Dragon Realms. But he still needed to reach Warfang regardless of this truth, because the Guardians would know how to get him home.

Surely they would.

Thus he took advantage of the Apes' distraction and left. "God," he prayed, not even asking himself if the Almighty Father of the Christian faith had jurisdiction over this world. "Please help them. I cannot do this. I'm _sorry._"

Countless tears streamed still as the human teenager cried. He wept profusely while he walked away, disgusted with himself. Never before did his heart thrum with something so incredibly hollow inside it. _I couldn't do anything! __I__'m really sorry.  
_

Yet silent apologies and regrets never changed how strongly Joshua Renalia felt empty.

How he felt a lot less human.

* * *

**More author's notes:**

The Apes' names, I literally took from _A New Beginning_, specifically in the Swamp level when Spyro discovers his Fire element and also when he and Sparx encounter Ignitus. You're not going to remember any of this, of course, since you were too busy enjoying the game. lol.

Aldozira. The City of Apes. I got it from the _Planet of the Apes_ franchise, and hell, I even named the leader "Lord Caesar". Aldozira probably won't play a big role in _Aimless_, since the Apes are simply trying to rebuild life after servitude under Malefor and two straight defeats by the "Purple Dragon of Legend". Of course, I'm not ruling out a possible visit to this in a much later chapter. World-building will be very important in this story since I **am** trying to portray Joshua Renalia as a teenager who discovers that living in a video game world is not what he would've expected.

Anyway... see you all next chapter.


	6. Saying Goodbye

**Chapter 6: Saying Goodbye**

* * *

"_What's the point of a promise anyway? How can we expect people to stick to their word about anything when the world around us is so arbitrary, unreliable, and senseless?"_

\- Taylor Jenkins Reid

* * *

Blind.

Paralyzed.

Agonizing throbs.

Kilat squirmed and convulsed on the grass, delirious from the blood gushing out of the stump at the scapula, the base of her left wing. Pain like nothing she had ever experienced in all the ten years she lived shocked her entire body again and again. It never ended, and all she could do was close her eyes, at shriek at the top of her tiny lungs as everything grew colder.

"_Lani! Take Kilat and get away!"_

The warmth of another lifted her up. It _hurt_, but she felt someone worm his muzzle under her chest, using all the strength in him to prop her above the ground.

"We're getting out of here, Kilat," whispered the Earth dragon in her ear. "Don't worry about me. I found a small Spirit Gem. It fixed my leg a bit."

She hissed, "I… c-c-can't, I-I… hurts so much…"

Explodon's booming command overtook her ears. _"Go! __**Anywhere but here**_._"_

"Ancestors," muttered Lani. "You can do it, Kilat. Just walk."

It wasn't her legs or feet that hurt. It was the bleeding stump that had been her wing. Kilat wavered from dizziness, nearly collapsed. But she held on and walked, just as Lani encouraged. "Keep walking," he said. "Just keep walking. Lean on me and I'll guide you. We need to escape before they kill us!"

She wanted to reply. She wanted to say she already knew this. That they couldn't possibly take on multiple apes with hard combat experience. But the Electric dragon child spent every ounce of her focus on taking each and every step forward.

She had to ignore the pain.

She needed to _endure_ the pain.

But Kilat couldn't see where she was going. Her eyes were open, yet all they caught were wavy pillars of darkness, a claustrophobic canopy of poison green swaying above, and a kaleidoscope of colors she would never recognize, not in a state of shock.

Kilat heard Explodon's voice from behind. Faint, getting farther—softer with each step. _"She _needs_ Spirit Gems! I'll buy you some—OOF!"_

Kilat stopped and looked back, her hazy vision barely discerning the red shape in the distance, quivering on the ground next to three dark, furry figures. "Explodon! No!"

"Keep going, Kilat." Her last remaining companion forced her to look ahead. "Don't stop."

"I, I… no, we can't…"

"_Please_," begged Lani. Sounds of battle rang anew behind them. Like a death knell for the teenage dragon standing ground for their sakes. "Explodon stayed behind for us. For, **us**."

The dread—the fright and the grief reverberating in his voice persuaded the Electric dragoness to walk. She kept going as Lani entreated. She leaned on him for support, unable to walk, to even see properly. Kilat wouldn't waste Explodon's sacrifice. To do so insulted his heroism. It spat upon his spirit.

His dying wish.

The two children retreated from the clearing. Lani searched for the crimson gems as they plodded their way in Warfang's direction as fast as Kilat's condition permitted. He was terrified of her injury, she knew. He feared his only true friend in the world, a dragon he considered his younger sister in all but name, would die pitilessly like this.

Why were the Apes so _hateful_? They already left the Valley of Avalar alone, haven't they? They kept to themselves now. Why couldn't they simply forget the past? Let bygones be bygones? Why cling to their hatred for dragonkind?

But Kilat's thoughts wandered away from the Apes. They pondered why she and Lani had to go through this ordeal. It couldn't have been because they were both born outside the Year of the Dragon, could it? But even if that was true, Ancestors, it simply wouldn't be **fair** for the two of them to be punished so harshly. They entered the Dragon Realms with such unfortunate timing by no fault of their own.

The two dragons only wanted to reach Warfang. They simply sought refuge there, where other dragons lived, safe and in peace. There, they could seek out anyone who may possibly have family ties to either her or Lani.

Because the both of them were orphaned when the Apes invaded the hidden settlement their families lived in seven years ago. She didn't know how Malefor's forces found them. She didn't know how the massive, terrifying black dragon leading the army of Apes discovered their homes when it was days away from the Dragon Temple. Days away from Warfang.

Kilat barely remembered what happened that night. Her youngest memories yielded few flashes of her real parents, of her real brothers and sisters… of a dragoness with six horns and a bladed tail, overwhelming the brave few with scores of Apes behind her.

Then there was one more glimpse of the far past, when her sky blue eyes caught a red fox parting the bushes with its paws. It—no, _he_ saw her together with Lani, lying on the cold, wet ground dying of starvation, thirst, and disease. "H-he… _heeeeeelp_," she moaned. The language alerted the fox to their situation, and so he flew.

He ran back into the bushes and disappeared for a few minutes, returning only when he rallied a handful of adults to care for them until they were fully healed. The Ancestors must have blessed them that day, as they could've easily been a people accustomed to a foreign language. Instead Kilat and Lani found friends among the merciful people of Mungo Volpe. A secluded village hidden in the lands beyond Avalar, even further than the settlement personally destroyed by the Dark Master's general.

A village populated by foxes and mongooses. Not unlike the cheetahs of Avalar, fur coated their bodies and both species walked on two feet. As a people, they were fast as they were surreptitious and resourceful, but unlike the cheetahs, the residents of Mungo Volpe specialized in digging, surprise attacks, and foraging.

For the next seven years, Kilat and Lani lived in ignorant bliss. The two dragons rotated throughout the community every so often, becoming a part of practically every family in the village. Everyone shared their way of life with the Electric and Earth dragons. Although Kilat and Lani knew they were dragons from the very beginning, neither knew or understood flight. Neither was aware of their ability to harness the elements.

.

.

"_Ancestors, just where are the Spirit Gems when you need them? I'm getting tired."_

.

.

Even then, they lived as brother and sister for the next seven years, happily **and** in peace. Kilat and Lani did not learn of Malefor's defeat by the Purple Dragon of Legend or even _consider _coming face to face with their traumatic past until three adolescent dragons stopped by the secluded village to rest, en route to the City of Dragons from a land so much further than Mungo Volpe Kilat wondered how big the Dragon Realms truly were.

It had only been a few days since they first met. Curiosity drove Kilat to dash to the three dragons. "You… you're dragons," she uttered to the red one nearest them. He seemed the most sociable of the three. She didn't exactly like the blue or green one. "Just like us."

.

.

"_Kilat. Hey, Kilat."_

.

.

The red dragon stood beneath his companions. He seemed to be the youngest among the three of them. "Yes," he said happily. "We are. What are you doing here? I don't see any other dragons in this place."

"That's because…" the Electric dragon child turned away from the red one. "Mom and dad, they're..." An unusual choke wanted to burst out of her throat. That didn't happen every time she thought of her parents. "They're..."

"Forget I asked," dismissed the adolescent considerately. "What's your name? I'm Explodon."

"I'm Kilat," said the young dragoness. She pointed at the Earth dragon slightly older than her, prancing around Explodon's companion as green as the only other person who was a constant throughout her entire life. "That there's Lani. He's my older brother."

.

.

"_You tired too? Can you still walk? Do you need to rest?"_

.

.

"Your brother?" Explodon gave her an odd look. He eyed Lani for a few seconds. "I don't see the resemblance—

Kilat cut him off, "We adopted each other." She left it at that, but Explodon managed to put two and two together.

"Ahh." Explodon laughed when he watched his traveling companion gently shove Lani away and step back, only for the child to approach him like a persistent, relentless _fox_. "Hey, let me introduce you to my friends here. Your brother's about to drive Rockclaw mad."

.

.

"_Hey. _Hey, _are you okay?"_

.

.

She held her tongue and resisted Explodon's pull.

"Kilat, what's wrong?"

"I," she stuttered. "I, I, I… uhm… it's, well, uh, because…"

"My friends are cool. You can trust them. I've known them for **years**." He smiles at her. "Come on now."

"Oh, okay."

.

.

"_Oh no, hide!"_

.

.

An external force on her shoulder brought Kilat back to reality, where she found herself in the oppressive forest. She stood on top of a small hill without a wing, covered in blood, and barely able to walk. "L-Lani?" she said. "What's—

"Shhh!"

Lani huddled close to a tree and held his paw out, pressing Kilat's body into the trunk as much as he could. The dragoness flinched from her older brother's hustling, but she muffled her whimper as much as she could.

It was a good thing she did.

Four apes, each of the same stature and build as the two Lani faced in the clearing, ambled into view. They held weapons of various sorts, with one holding a bow with one arrow ready at the drawstring, his keen eyes darting to and fro for anything noteworthy.

"Oh, lookie!" cried one. "More pretty red crystals!" He pointed a spiked mace at the cluster of Spirit Gems glinting next to a tree trunk. "Right over there."

"Then go and get rid of them," spoke another. "Can't have those two dragons getting their second wind now."

"Do we really _have to_?" whined the third. "They're just **kids**. It's not like they—

"Sari told us _never _to underestimate dragons," retorted the second. "I have **family** waiting for me in Aldozira, so I'm seeing through to that."

Lani grumbled under his breath. "So **that's** why we can't find any Spirit Gems."

The four primates loitered in sight. They destroyed every cluster of jewels they could find, even those even Lani couldn't see. Learning this deflated Kilat. Her hopes of reaching Warfang—no, of escaping the Apes alive with her surrogate brother dwindled further and further. Had the Ancestors abandoned them? Or was it just her bad luck to walk into problems someone her age shouldn't even go through?

She lost her footing and slumped a little on the tree. Kilat felt weak. The desire to simply lie down, curl into a ball, and fall asleep tempted her greatly, and had she been alone, she might have succumbed to it without a moment's hesitation. But she was not alone, and neither she nor her brother was safe.

Sky blue eyes regained their focus. Kilat shook off some of her lightheadedness away and tapped the Earth dragon. "Lani, what do we do? Think we can sneak past them?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I think it's better if we just wait for them to leave." Lani bit the lip of his muzzle. "But…"

"But… what?"

"They're not the only ones. I haven't seen _another_ Spirit Gem after we left Explodon." Kilat cringed from the thought of Explodon. Revisiting the kind Fire Dragon and speculating his fate sent bad vibes coursing through her, each no less revolting than the last. "Hiding's not a good idea. Ancestors know how many _monkeys_ are here trying to catch us."

The Electric dragon child stared longingly at the concrete fortress of Warfang, sitting pretty in the far distance. "H, h-how far are we from the Dry Canyon?"

"I don't know. Maybe the rim's very close in one way. Maybe it's very far in another." Lani bowed his head, a sensation of apology overtaking the dragon

She nuzzled her older brother. "I'm scared."

"Me too." A brown wing extended from him and wrapped around the dragoness. The Earth Dragon leaned on her, reciprocated the gesture, and rubbed his body along hers. "Hey, Kilat?"

"…Yes?" Kilat's gaze showed the four apes lurking in the area below them, seeking any Spirit Gems hidden in plain sight.

"If, if something happens—

"Brother—

Lani ignored her. "I want you to **run**. It's gonna be hard." He ogled the remains of her left wing. He observed the lethargy consuming his surrogate sister, the blood slowly drizzling away from her body. Even the way she avoided putting any pressure on a hind leg. "**Very** hard. But you're a strong girl. If you push yourself, I _know_ you can get away."

"I, I can't do that, Lani." She shook her snout in disapproval. Water shone in her eyes. "I've been with you almost all my life. You're the only one left. I… I don't want to lose any more of my family..."

"Better you than me. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"But—

"I _promised_, remember? When I became—

"My older brother," the child said. "I know. But—

"Little sis, even if I'm gone, your world isn't going to end," Lani rebutted with a rather mature response. "No matter how bad it gets, keep looking forward. Live a long, happy life. That's all I want you to do, 'cause if you're happy, I'm happy. Got it?"

"I… I…"Kilat turned away. She pouted, disliking the way this conversation was heading. Disliking how Lani used the short respite they had to tell her something she never wanted to hear. Not from his mouth. She gritted her teeth, and would have put some more strength into it if it didn't instigate another crushing wave of vertigo. "…Got it."

A foreign voice interrupted the two foster siblings. "Ekise!" Kilat jolted from its sheer loudness. She quivered from dread, turning towards the speaker—

"The two dragons!" clamored another furry ape. The dragoness grimaced at the finger he thrust towards her and her brother. It was covered in blood. _Her _blood. He must have tracked them. "Over there. Right above you!"

Lani sprang into action. "Curses!" He opened his muzzle and a stream of green energy flew out. It acquired a solid, tangible mass as it rushed the air and struck the ground next to the apes below, momentarily scattering the group. "Kilat, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

Her brother supported her weight again. "C'mon. One step. Another. And another. And _another_!" Kilat only stared straight ahead. The dragoness put so much thought and effort into each stride to overcome the extent of her injuries that she simply couldn't pay attention to anything, let alone discern her surroundings.

If she had checked on Lani a few times, she might have noticed the disturbing frequency he looked back, and the alarmed expression coating his muzzle every time he did. But she saw nothing but the path in front of her, sloping downward as the forest slowly yielded to the canyon. Kilat's ears caught the sound of stones moving across the earth, of a rock dislodging itself from the ground to form a wall, of booming _thunks_ striking the various trees around them.

If she had only been more attentive, she might have glimpsed—felt Lani slipping away from her, taking advantage of her unusual focus to break off and face the Apes chasing them with the same courage and bravery of the other adolescent dragons before them.

But Kilat discovered the absence of her brother's weight only after several seconds. Several, **crucial** seconds. The Electric dragoness stopped and turned around, worry evident on her muzzle. "Lani, get back here! Why are you—

"I'm fulfilling my promise."

Behind the assertion, the resolution in her brother's voice, Kilat heard so much more. She heard his fear. She heard his resignation. She heard his determination, his _love_ for her. "Come back!" the injured dragoness urged. "Ancestors, I can't do this without you."

"Yes, you can! Remember what I just told you. **Never **forget it!"

"But I…"

"YES, YOU, CAN!" Lani conjured the strongest Earth breath he could come up with, applying the few lessons Rockclaw had given him before they entered this stupid forest.

The Elecric dragoness choked. "I…"

She still couldn't process this final farewell. "I lo…" Saying goodbye to her older brother? To someone who grew up with her? Who spent years playing with her, watching over her, living with her in the peaceful, secluded community of Mungo Volpe? Who stood in for her parents even when he himself lost his family through Malefor's army of apes?

"I love you," she managed to say.

"I love you, too, Kilat," replied the Earth dragon. Sadness laced Lani's voice. He, too, knew what was coming. What it meant to stay behind and face the primates. "Now go!" he shouted.

Kilat stared on. She watched Lani snarl at the nearest ape and hurl a small boulder at it. He narrowly evaded getting his arm cut off by a machete. He glimpsed her standing still, stupefied like a blinded deer.

"Ancestors! Just **GO**!" Lani insisted. "Or the **both of us** will die!"

Both Lani's command and the consequences of her lingering triggered a primal emotion in Kilat. The Electric dragoness recoiled from the realization dawning upon her. She sighed and, with a heavy heart, turned around.

She accepted his decision…

She accepted his dying wish…

And ran for dear life.

Two of the apes moved to pursue the fleeing child. "Ohhhh no! _You're_ not getting away from us!"

Lani charged at them, horns slamming into one pursuer. He rolled and pounced on the other, torqueing his body and lashing out with his tail before spitting out a blast of green at a third ape trying to flank him. "Over **my** dead body," he challenged the group.

The soldier called Ekise ventured forward. A devilish smile formed on his ugly mug. "We can arrange that," he said, looking at his fellow combatants. "Won't we?"

Not once did Kilat dawdle or turn around, just to see what happened next. She ran, and ran, and ran. She dashed as far as her legs could before giving out, before the throbbing in her wing took over and forced her to lie down. Kilat limped and struggled, even grunting as she fulfilled her own promise to Lani. Many times her four legs buckled. Many times she tripped over herself, gasping for breath. Many times, she cried, sometimes unable to go on. Sometimes wishing she could go back and return. Help her brother out.

Yet Kilat steeled herself. She **forced **herself to push forward. To take that extra step, one at a time. She didn't know if the Apes knew where she was, if the Apes were closing in, but Kilat promised herself she would live to see Warfang, live to get away and pursue happiness just as her older brother wished.

An oath she would fight for to her last breath.

After Ancestors knew how long, the overbearing clump of trees squeezing all around her eventually spread out. The dragoness saw the City of Dragons in all its glory at the distance. A white beacon. A great bastion of safety and power. A wellspring of relief threatened to burst out of her chest, but she stopped herself from celebrating prematurely. Her solitary journey was not yet over.

The dragon's vision wavered. Her stance wobbled. She shook her head vigorously and even bit her own tongue to stay awake and strong. The Electric dragon child took a deep breath. She couldn't stop now. Not until she was safe. Away from those murderous monkeys.

Kilat strode forward…

…and because of her semi-blindness, tumbled deep into the Dry Canyon.

Everything went black.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

In my main story (which is not in the _Spyro_ fandom), I like to dwell on a character's perspective with a piece of 5K to 7K in length, then switch it up with another character and repeat this process about five more times. Doing this adds variety to the thought processes and emotion weaved by the narration, not to mention that it allows me so much leeway to abuse the "unreliable narrator", "offstage villainy", and "offscreen moment of awesome" tropes in numerous, creative ways.

This character can be a canon character. It can also be an OC with a primary or secondary role in the overall storyline. If it's an OC, s/he can _also be_ "disposable", meaning a character that I'll write or kill off after one use (or a handful).

Kilat offers an alternative viewpoint for _Aimless_, of course. Spyro, Cynder, and Sparx would also be other choices as well, but only after I properly introduce them into the story.

On to the next chapter! :P

Oh, and interesting factoid about Kilat's name: "Kilat" is Malay for "Lightning". Hehe. I'm not Malaysian, but I'm guessing her name is pronounced as "Kee-laht" based on the word my native language uses for lightning.


	7. Surrender

**Chapter 7: Surrender**

* * *

"_Surrender your own poverty and acknowledge your nothingness to the Lord. Whether you understand it or not, God loves you, is present in you, lives in you, dwells in you, calls you, saves you and offers you an understanding and compassion which are like nothing you have ever found in a book or heard in a sermon."_

\- Thomas Merton

* * *

Dirt and gravel rushed below her vision, and wind flowed past her muzzle as she rushed forward.

An infantile Kilat curiously watched the way her golden feet swayed in mid-air as she hung from the mouth of her mother by the scruff of her neck. Her father galloped alongside his family, looking back every so often. Unlike most dragons, his scales shone pure gold. No secondary color stained them, a trait unique to her family, it seemed.

Next to her parents charged three smaller dragons. Each, perhaps twice or thrice her age. Their colors varied between pure yellow or pure blue, but Kilat would never realize her mother was an Ice Dragon until the day she met Explodon in Mungo Volpe seven years later.

Her parents exchanged words, and two of her older siblings gazed at them with worry. The eldest had pity glazing his eyes when he stared at Kilat, the youngest of them all. Dark and furry figures obscured her vision, silhouettes painted by the scarlet flames flickering in the background. A slender dragoness far larger than her parents roamed the night skies and expertly sniped down any family that dared to brave the tempting emptiness of the air.

Suddenly the jaw keeping her above the ground went away. Kilat dropped and she felt herself rolling. Her mouth opened to shriek in pain, but the Electric dragoness for some reason couldn't match the full agony with the fact everything around her felt dulled. Her mother's cerulean paws vaulted over her, and before the child she stood, fangs snarling at the armored bipeds obstructing them, brandishing their weapons.

Her father, an Electric Dragon, batted an arrow that came her way and destroyed it before it struck the child. Kilat watched a yellow, illustrious orb gather in his gaping mouth. It emitted cracks of light and sparkled brightly, growing brighter and more luminous until the adult dragon's lips puckered and his tongue bolted forward, jettisoning the golden sphere at the one that raised a bow at his youngest daughter.

It crashed into the ground, where it expanded a thousandfold and erupted into a flash of light and electricity.

The light never faded. It intensified as the seconds passed, growing brighter and brighter until her dream came to an end. An older Kilat opened her cobalt eyes. She felt the heat of the sun bearing down on her body. Colorful geologic columns lined the sides of the Dry Canyon, and the bright red of igneous rock ran across the rim. Had the ten year-old dragoness been able to fly, it wouldn't have been so high, so unreachable for her.

But even if she could, the loss of her left wing rendered that null and void. Kilat shook off the stupor her dream left her in. It wasn't the first time she's seen her real parents and siblings while she slumbered. She had seen them try to escape together quite a few times in the past, while she lived in Mungo Volpe. Lani once explained to her they were trying to meet up with _his_ family, so they can escape Malefor's army together as one coordinated unit.

The preadolescent dragoness panned her eyes around her. She grimaced at the expanse opening behind her. It was a long and deadly fall to the bottom of the Dry Canyon, across which a deep and treacherous river zigzagged. Had Kilat known more about the war four years ago, she would've recognized this river to be the very same one flowing from the great dam to the south. Kilat released a terrified whimper, realizing how close she had been to dying without realizing it, and so soon after she promised Lani to live on. But she couldn't have helped it, could she? She had been too confused, too enfeebled to notice she stood at the cusp of a cliff's edge, not until it was too late.

Kilat moved to stand. Apes were agile. Apes were flexible. Even if there was a good chance they couldn't scale down the steep walls of the Dry Canyon easily, the Electric dragoness didn't want to bet her life on something this. They've already taken everything from her. Her parents. Her siblings. Explodon.

And Lani. Dear sweet and loving Lani.

But as she stood, a spike of pain shot through her right foreleg. Kilat looked down and gasped. Her foreleg had bent all the wrong way. It was broken. Her right hind leg still ached from whatever that invisible Ape did to her. Worse, she left a pool of blood in her wake. Her stump had bled again, and the wound apparently exacerbated during her fall.

"Why is everything bad happening to me?" Kilat questioned the Ancestors. She mewled, gazing up at the orange glow of the afternoon sky. One of the Dragon Realm's two moons was already rising from the horizon. Then terrible coughs came out of her. Kilat sniffled. Sticky gunk dripped from her nostrils and her body felt remarkably hot and sultry.

The dragon child looked around. The mezzanine level of the canyon sloped precariously and flatly in some places, but it mostly held no shelter for her. While bushes were a dime a dozen, it seemed devoid of trees to take shelter. Of course, Spirit Gems were nowhere in sight. Not in a place as damned as the Dry Canyon.

There.

She saw a small waterfall flowing down the rocks, where the narrow river in the forest fell to join the larger one cutting across the bottom of the canyon. The flow was nowhere impressive, but it did tell her two things.

There was water.

And there was a chance she could find some sort of shelter there.

Driven by a growing hope in her heart, the young child hobbled the best she could to the only source of life close to her. Kilat grimaced how the trail inclined upwards slightly, and multiple times she collapsed on her broken foreleg. What would've taken her a short time with a quick, brisk walk lengthened so much Kilat lost track of her time.

Kilat could not remember how often she felt spent. The dragoness became so desperate she started to crawl. Even if she couldn't properly use either of her right legs, the child was so resolute she did everything in her feeble power to make it there. Who knows what she would find at the base of the waterfall? If she was lucky there would be a cluster of red Spirit Gems there, enough for a full recovery.

Kilat blew the green fluid out of her nose and made her way, reaching for her only destination in tiny, little steps. No other signs of life appeared on this level of the canyon. She stopped a few times to take a breath. Yet Kilat often found herself waking up a little bit later, still lethargic, still weak and feverish, and her head still throbbing as she moved. Her stomach also growled; she was hungry too.

She made it eventually, of course. But only after what felt like days crawling across the hot and burning rock. Sweat drenched all four of her paws, yet even the air around the canyon felt torrid, still hostile. Her stomach kicked her multiple times, yearning for meat, for food of any sort. Her mouth felt coarse. Even her _tongue _seemed to have dried out, and it felt more like rough, tanned leather than a fluid muscle.

Kilat hungrily eyed the yellow berries dangling from a bush close to the water pooling at the base of the waterfall. She staggered there, moving with increased urgency. She needed to eat. She needed to drink. With her two forepaws pretty much out of the way, the dragon child ate the berries straight from the bushes. They were tasty. Juicy even. She finished as much as she could before gulping down as much of the fresh water as she could.

But that did not stop the constant feeling of weakness dogging her. It did not ease up and instead continued to pervade her entire body. She shivered, feeling cold out of the blue. "I need rest," she said to herself. But she didn't want to be found so easily either. Not by those murderous, dragon-hating apes.

Luckily for Kilat, she found a decent amount of foliage right by the waterfall. It seemed thick enough to keep her hidden, but unfortunately not sufficiently enough to repel anyone larger than her. The dragoness limped and tottered her way to the vegetation. She ducked under the leaves and curled by the warm rocks when she could crawl no further.

There, drawing a (false) sense of security from the shrubbery surrounding her, Kilat fell asleep. Perhaps it was by the mercy of the Ancestors that darkness took her before thoughts of Lani's sacrifice surfaced, before she broke down into tears from a lasting sadness, and indeed, before she began thinking how life would be like without a wing.

Her sleep was dreamless.

Kilat snoozed in peace for a long time before the sounds of something slurping up the water brought her back into the waking world. The sun was still out, but the sky had dimmed considerably by then to a deeper and brighter shade of orange. She felt weaker. **Much** weaker than before, as if her body deteriorated so much while she'd been asleep.

"Holy shit, that climb was **exhausting**!" someone lamented. It was male. "I swear to God, when I get back home I am **never** climbing again."

The person seemed alone.

Kilat rose to her feet. She stumbled, but suppressed any yelp caused by the flare of agony. The dragon child inched forward, towards the opening in front of her. Anticipation lifted up her chest. There was a traveler here! Maybe it's someone she could go to and ask for help. Maybe it's someone who can bring her to Warfang. Or at least, someone who could—

All hopes deflated when she finally glimpsed the mop of black fur across the stranger's head and the distinctly primate structure of his face and posture. It was an ape, and uncannily a furless one at that. He had deep, brown skin and wore strange clothing over himself. Kilat edged back. Fear clawed into her chest, and the thought of Lani rushed to the forefront of her mind.

She didn't want to die.

But her body betrayed her. Coughs she couldn't suppress wrenched themselves out of her throat. They were wet, and she spat out gunk from her mouth. Her head throbbed with each cough, and all the strength in her body seemed to fade.

The furless ape jumped, startled. He stopped whatever he was doing and looked in her general direction. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Her heart pumping rapidly, Kilat inched backward. _Oh no_, she thought. The dragon said nothing, hoping against hope she could hide from this ape long enough for him to dismiss her coughs as sounds in the wind.

Looking back, it might have worked too, if Kilat did not step back with the sprained foot. The unexpected pain permeating her body caused her to stumble and disturb the brushes she hid in. A loud, frightened squeal then flew out of her muzzle, too fast for her to stop it.

The furless ape heard it all. "You alright?" he asked. Concern colored his voice. But Kilat knew better. Once he saw her for what she was—once he realized she was a _dragon_, and the one he was probably looking for, all pretenses of care would vanish instantly. "Hey, say something!" His green eyes stared in her direction.

No.

They stared at **her**.

They zeroed in on **her** with such precision Kilat felt they just made eye contact. But that was impossible! Kilat couldn't be seen fully under the foliage. Even if the furless ape tracked her scent or followed the dried bloodstains, those would've saturated every bit of her hiding place. How—

"C'mon, I know you're there," said the ape. He sauntered closer. Kilat kept her mouth shut. She resolved not to say anything to this enemy. She was in no shape or condition to fight back, so the sooner he left, the better. She quashed the fright slowly seeping in her—

The furless ape interrupted her thoughts. "Don't be afraid," he said, his timing so impeccable it scared the Electric dragon child **more**. _How did he…? _"Just come out. It's okay. Maybe I can help. You, you don't sound so good."

She whined and retreated further. Kilat despised the fact she couldn't run. She detested the pervasive weakness running across her body, and how it still seemed so tempting to lie down and sleep, to simply give up.

"Jesus Christ," grumbled the ape. "What is _wrong_ with you? I'm not—

That's when his emerald eyes saw the dried flakes of blood beneath his feet. He went quiet. Then the furless ape examined his surroundings with more attention. With more _prudence._ A few tense instants passed by before he gazed in her direction again, as though he knew **exactly** where Kilat watched. Those two eyes squinted, and several times he crouched and examined the shrubbery, or at least how much of it he could see from his point of view.

Something impossible emerged from his lips. "It's, it's _you_. You're that yellow dragon." The furless ape straightened his posture and began walking. Ambling **closer**.

Kilat was cornered like a common rat. "Get away!" she spoke at last. "Just leave me alone!"

"Like hell I _won't_," he retorted.

"I'll hurt you, **ape**," she threatened with a loud growl. "I'll **kill** you! You're not taking me. You won't get me!" Kilat didn't know how to use her element but she would find a way in the heat of the moment. Lani managed to learn his in the short time he's known Rockclaw. Surely she could come up with something on the fly.

To her consternation, he stopped, displaying a hesitation she didn't expect from one of these accursed apes. A strange emotion twisted his face, but after a few moments he shook his head. "No," he said. His approach slowed down, grew more cautious. "I won't leave. I am getting you out of there even if it's the last thing I do."

When his feet closed in on the bushes and his hands reached in to part the leaves, Kilat screamed. "No, no, leave me alone. LEAVE ME ALONE!" The stress in her voice buzzed with activity, and she felt her chest tingling from an erratic vigor stirring deep within.

Instincts borne into dragonkind rose to the surface. The image of her father burned itself into her mind's eye. The way he kept his mouth agape, the way a globe of crackling electricity coalesced into his mouth before he shot it at his enemies and killed any unlucky enough to be hit. Unconscious of her actions, Kilat opened her mouth the exact same way and let the stinging energy within her pool between her teeth.

She put everything into it. All her anger at the Apes for taking away her loved ones. All her grief at Lani's death, at Explodon's sacrifice. All her frustration at the Ancestors for failing to help her. Kilat put everything into it and aimed right at the furless ape separating the bushes.

Green eyes dilated at the sight. "Oh f*ck, you can use the Electric Orb!" He jolted back and raised his arms in defense, a very familiar trepidation flushing his eyes. But not before Kilat spat the orb at him.

She expected the compressed ball of electricity to strike him in the face, or in the arm when he lashed out in an attempt to repel it. She anticipated it to behave exactly the same way it did in her dreams: to expand rapidly after impact and burst into a deadly array of lightning bolts. Kilat felt no remorse for killing the stupid, furless ape. She warned him to leave her alone and like all those who slew her friends in cold blood, he ignored it and went for her anyway. Kilat was no defenseless dragon, even if she was a child.

But expectations were one thing.

Reality was another.

The furless ape swatted at the "Electric Orb" with his hand just as she expected, but to her immense shock, a white radiance enveloped the entire arm right as it struck the ball of lightning. Kilat watched in horror as his palm **batted** the golden orb away. Effortlessly. As though it was _nothing_ to him. It flew to the far right, where it expanded and harmlessly detonated into a massive burst of electricity.

He stared at his hands for a moment, and frowned. But that did not dissuade him from resuming his approach.

Kilat collapsed from debilitating exhaustion. Her vision turned blurry, and she could no longer see clearly. Her dizziness—her _weakness_ overwhelmed her all of a sudden, like a thief in the night. The dragoness had put literally everything she had into that last attack, and seeing it deflected so easily drained all the hope from her chest. It stripped away all the energetic optimism from her innocent eyes. Kilat broke down into tears, sobbing from anguish.

The ape's hands clutched the scruff of her neck. He grunted as he dragged her out of the bush. He apparently didn't care how much she snuffled, or how much she convulsed every time her injured legs bumped into the roots, into the imperfections of the ground. He didn't care as long as he got what he came for and did exactly what he said he'd do.

When the bright sky revealed itself in full, Kilat surrendered completely to her fate. A bloody and disabled mess. This was it. This was the moment she joined Lani and her family in the afterlife. The dragoness still bawled like a baby, only because everything that had happened seemed so unfair. She was just a child. Barely past ten years old. She only wanted frivolous things. She just wanted to live a happy life. Was that so much to ask from the Ancestors?

Kilat trembled. The Apes hated dragons. The Apes wanted dragons to **suffer**, regardless of how old or innocent they were. What was this one going to do to her? Would he gut her? Would he torture her? Would he break her leg more than it already was? Would he break _another_ bone in her poor, beaten body?

Towering over her, the furless ape tightened his hold over her neck and jaw. Kilat soiled herself and released everything out of the hole by the base of her tail, absolutely enraptured by fright. He glared down at her, face contorting from the repulsive smell. The sense of doom strengthened. She was at his mercy and he knew it!

"Please," Kilat asked her captor, barely stopping her tears. She stared into her killer's unreadable, viridian gaze, and pleaded to him for a mercy she prayed he'd give. "J-just please, m, m-make it… Make it quick." Better a fast, painless death than an agonizing torment that was slow to end. "It, it's too much," the child begged. "Stop the pain. I can't, I can't take it anymore. P-p-please…"

He did not reply. Instead his other hand went to the rest of her body. Five fingers grabbed her frail, golden underbelly, and pulled her closer to him. The grip hurt and the pain made her whimper. Kilat felt the hand on her head snake around her neck. The furless ape forced the dragoness to raise her shivering snout, and then...

.

Then he…

.

He…

.

.

.

He did not kill her.

.

By the Ancestors, he **hugged** her.

He cradled as much of her in his arms as he could and **nuzzled** her.

"You're alive," he verbalized. "I, I still can't believe it. You're, **alive**!" He proclaimed it, not with irritation, not with loathing, but with relief and **happiness**. He ran his hand along the horns curving outward from her head. He stroked her jaw. He played with her ears, and rubbed her neck in a manner that signaled true, genuine concern for **her**. "Thank God. Thank f*cking God..."

Utterly dumbfounded, Kilat could not say anything in reply. Not to this unexpected gentleness. But could she have said something anyway? The child thought this person was going to kill her, to torment her as every ape wanted. Instead, he shattered every single one of her expectations and presented Kilat with a kindness she had _never seen_ from the Apes. Not for a dragon.

The child's muzzle scrunched from the deep emotions running through her.

Shock.

Confusion.

Disbelief.

But when it finally dawned on Kilat that she was safe at last, far away from her pursuers—and in the hands of an _ape_, of all people—all the stress, all the grief of the past few hours rushed out. The pain accumulating in her chest surged forth as though the dam keeping her sane crumbled to dust.

She raised the only forepaw she could and wrapped it around the furless ape. The child curled into him, buried her muzzle into his blue shirt, and wept. Kilat grieved for Lani, Explodon, and the other two who died for them. She lost herself in a sniffling cacophony of broken sobs.

"No one's coming to get you anymore," he said. The only ape in the world who cared enough to be her friend.

The crippled dragon clutched him tighter. Kilat wailed harder as she heard him say the words she wanted so desperately to hear.

"You're safe now. You're _safe_. Everything's gonna be alright..."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Aaaand there you have it. Joshua and Kilat meet at last!

Of course, before we proceed any further, he'll have to find a way to help her with her injuries. But there's also the fact she's, well, _slowly dying_. (She ate those yellow berries. You know, those poisoned ones. Uh-oh!) But that's something to deal with in the next chapter.

I have to **be** kind to my characters every once in a while, after all. Real life isn't all bad news, right? Good things happen too. It's only when good things happen **too much** that a "Human in the Dragon Realms" story—or **any** **story** for that matter, whether it's fanfiction or an original tale—turns into an eyesore, a headache, and a waste of digital space with little regard for realism. Of course, you know how much this reduces the entertainment value…

Okay, so I'm done updating for now. Originally, this had been a single chapter with the previous one, which is why I wanted this one out ASAP. Anyway, now that I'm done, I can take a breather, get to work on my main story, and more importantly, stop procrastinating and do real work. =_=U


	8. Useless

**Chapter 8: Useless**

* * *

"_Powerlessness is an excruciating pain; it is torture insurmountable."_

\- Richelle E. Goodrich

* * *

Kilat wept for Ancestors knew how long. She had long lost track of her time, preferring instead to wail away her sorrows on the first person who embraced her. The electric dragoness wiped her tears on the furless ape's arms and blew her nose on his shirt.

She felt him stroke her head. Kilat did not resist curling more into the warm body that cradled her so tenderly. Until now, the child still couldn't believe how an ape—an **ape!**—was so friendly towards her, a dragon. It almost seemed too good to be true. Sometimes a nagging doubt would enter her, and the dragon child would peek out of the folds and creases of the furless one's green-stained shirt, expecting to see a hint of betrayal, may it be the frightening white glow on those arms, or even a weapon of some sort.

The only forepaw she could move—the only one that hadn't been broken by that fall into the Dry Canyon—remained wrapped around the furless ape, whose body currently stayed relaxed. Consoling, perhaps. If he betrayed her, then she had a chance, a fighting chance to plunge into his neck or spine and destroy it.

Yet every time her doubts compelled Kilat to suspect deceit, every time Kilat checked, no weapons waited for her in the periphery. No hands were held out, ready for a kill. The more the sun sunk down into the horizon, the more the child realized this **was** real. She was not dreaming. She, honestly and truly, was safe in the arms of an ape. It sounded ridiculous to her, and she wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't experiencing it for herself right now.

Kilat wanted to thank him. But strangely, she could not bring herself to move. Her body would much rather stay where it was, taking in the salty and foreign scent of the person promising her safety.

"You're dying."

_I'm what!_

The dragoness sniffled. She brought her eyes upward, and found herself staring into the ape's. "W, w-what did… what did you say?"

He did not reply. He started shaking his head uncontrollably. Those green eyes darted left and right, always gazing in her direction. "No. No, no, no, no." The hand snaked around her torso moved away. Remnants of her doubts stirred to life, even as the furless ape's other hand slithered around her jaw to better support her. A familiar terror began seeping in and with it the sting of terrible betrayal, but such thoughts vanished when Kilat felt the back of his other hand touch her neck without any sign of malice.

His mouth made another clicking sound. The same hand went to her nose and pinched one of the oozing nostrils, lifting it up. Another clicking noise. She felt his hand brush against the base of her left wing. She jolted when it touched the sensitive stump. There was that sound again.

"Damn it," he muttered. Kilat observed the way this same hand went for her broken foreleg and lifted it. Only when she noticed the great care he made in avoiding any sudden movements or mishandling did the electric dragoness realize he was examining her battered and beaten body. "Damn it all to hell." She gazed up in silence, watching the furless ape's face vary between two curious expressions she associated with sadness or surprise.

Kilat did not know what those clicking sounds meant. But regardless of this oddity, all doubts left the dragon in an instant. Someone out to mislead and deceive her wouldn't look over her body like this. If this ape did not care about her, he wouldn't be doting over her condition. He would've even left her to die. Now, she knew without a doubt he would not trick her—he would **never** betray her and stab her in the back. Kilat decided that, from now on, she would always stand by this ape and put her trust in him. Assuming, of course, she survived—

His voice interrupted her thoughts. He sounded young, perhaps as young as Explodon had been. "When was the last time you had something to eat?" he asked her. "To drink?"

Kilat tried to speak. Her mouth was hard to move, and dizziness consumed her. "I… I, I, I… I don't know…" She remembered she ate those sweet, yellow berries and parched her thirst from the fresh water. "It's been, a while." Her voice shook. "B-b-but, but… it was here."

That scared her. Her voice **never** shook.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, I got it. Wait." He closed his eyes, remained still, and began taking deep, heavy breaths.

"Uhm, uh, wha, what—

"Shhhhhh," he hushed her. "Quiet. Just give me a moment."

Give him a moment, he said. Had Kilat been feeling just fine, she would've laughed at him. Like she had a choice right now!

After the fourth breath, he opened his eyes and stared at her. "Good. No apes within a kilometer."

"W, what's a ki-kilometer?"

He gave her a smile. "A word that means 'far'." One of his fingers pointed at the glowing orange disc in the sky. "That sun will have to go down a little bit more before you can walk a kilometer."

She nodded in understanding. It was a measure of distance. Apes sure had a funny way of measuring things. The foxes liked to measure their distances in terms of landmarks and territory, and the dragons based theirs on their wings and "airtime", as Lani told her once. Though how he knew there weren't any apes close by was a question she filed away to ask another day.

The furless ape kept one arm supporting her head, but Kilat felt the other one slide beneath her body. "What're you—

"Carrying you," he said. "Closer to the water."

She blanched. "Y-you, don't have to." He didn't need to carry her, did he? The child struggled to move. Kilat hoped it wouldn't hurt her right side any more than it already was. She put her unbroken forepaw on the soil and rose to her four feet…

Only to fall down.

The furless ape caught her in mid-fall. "Easy!" he said. "Easy! You'll just hurt yourself more."

Kilat stammered. "B-b-but… but…!" _But I made it here from way over there_, she wanted to say.

He cut her off. "No. Don't do **anything**. I'll carry you, okay?"

"O-okay…"

Somewhat secured in those brown furless arms, Kilat's body rose slowly from the ground. The child felt his arms quiver a bit. He grunted. "Good God, you're heavier than you look."

He gathered some momentum and made his way towards the pool at the base of the waterfall. "As small as a dachshund but worth f*cking _three_ _of them_ in my arms," he grumbled under his breath. At the time, due to her debilitation she mistook his jab at her weight as a compliment. The furless ape had a bad taste of karma days later when Kilat reminisced over this afternoon and asked the adolescent what exactly a "dachshund" was.

Kilat coughed twice. She leaned over the hairless arms and spewed green filth on the grass. Her new friend sent her a worried gaze. Subsequently he hastened his strides and willed himself to carry the dragoness all the way to the edge of the pool. The water lapped at the ground. While clear and transparent near the banks, the pool became a dull green further out, where a current pushed the water out towards the threshold of this mezzanine ledge.

The furless ape lowered the child towards the water. He set her down next to the shallow bank. "Just drink as much as you can," he said. The furless ape rose to his feet. Kilat found it odd how he had only a thick clump of leaves strapped to his feet, rather than the leather sandals worn by the people of Mungo Volpe. But the child said nothing, opting to take a drink from the pond as he advised her to. She did not know why she felt this way, why she could barely move or talk, but at least she wasn't struggling with this on her own. Not anymore.

Kilat felt relieved when the furless ape did not leave her sight and in fact gazed in her direction many more times than she did with him. Intermittently, her cobalt eyes followed his movement through the surrounding brush. He went after the taller trees surrounding the waterfall, she saw. He climbed them until he was as high as a pair of foxes standing on their shoulders. He picked the red and blue berries dangling from them rather than the sweet and tasty yellow berries close to the ground.

_Why not the yellow ones? _She wondered. _I'd like to have those again…_

"All right," said the furless ape. He dunked the collection of berries into the water and set them aside within arm's reach. "Here's some food. And don't worry," he reassured her. "They're good for you." He took two of each and plopped it into his mouth. "See?"

Kilat looked back at the yellow ones reluctantly. But trusting his judgment, she once again said nothing and moved to try the literal fruits of his labor. The electric dragoness found the red ones sweet and heavenly, even much more so than the yellow ones. The blue berries were sour, slightly bitter, but at least palatable.

As Kilat ate what she could, the furless ape drenched his hands in the water and splashed some of it on her yellow scales. He wiped away all the blood and grime he could without hurting her. She found it odd, if a little alien. The foxes and mongooses did not clean themselves this way, and neither did the dragons. But Kilat would not get the chance to ask him about this strange custom today, as she had to inch away from the water. It was simply far too cold for her, and she began shivering uncontrollably.

"Bear with me," he said. "I'm almost done." He lifted her tail and started washing the soiled cloaca until it was free of dirt and discoloration.

Meanwhile, Kilat did all she could to tolerate the temperature and continued to slurp up one berry after another. Unfortunately, as much as she liked his offering, the child could not eat it all. She wanted to. She really did, yet she did not have the appetite for it. The dragoness could not understand why.

Neither could the furless ape. He ogled her as soon as he finished the long process of cleaning everything but her stump and broken leg. "W-why, why aren't you eating?" he asked her.

Kilat shook her head. "I, don't know. I… don't, feel like having anything." Like she'd vomit if she forced anything more down her throat.

He recoiled. Made that clicking noise again. "F*ck," he mumbled. "I thought that'd work." He ate a handful of the berries left over before reaching over the side of her underbelly and pulled her away from the water, into the grass. "How do you feel right now?"

The dragoness reclined on the ground. Her eyes stared at the afternoon sky, but she wouldn't know they were beginning to glaze over until he told her about it days later in the city of Warfang.

"Talk to me," he said. "_Please_. How do you feel right now?"

"Like I want to sleep," she replied. "A nice, long sleep…"

The expression on his face twisted from dismay to absolute horror. Kilat might have seen the anxiety and worry emblazoned on the furless ape if she wasn't so lethargic right now. "Oh no. No. Don't sleep. Stay awake." The child watched him put his hands on her chest. He gave it a violent shake, but to her it felt numbed over. "Don't close your eyes. Come on, stay with me. Stay with me!"

He shook her again, but by then Kilat had shut him out, staring into the peaceful, afternoon sky. A bright, vanilla sky.

"No, no, no, no. What am I doing wrong? What am I _missing_? There's got to be something—

Kilat turned her head at the panicking ape. Why couldn't she bring herself to care? Why did she feel so drowsy? Why was her mind so languid? So _exhausted _she could barely get it to work right. "Hey," she muttered. "I, I just wanted to ask…"

"Yeah?" he crouched close to her, staring attentively. Expectantly.

"Why didn't you… get those yellow berries earlier? Those were sooooooooooooooooo… sweet. So, much better than those, than those blue ones." She stuck her tongue out and laughed, but for some reason it sounded hollow.

The ape's emerald eyes widened at the question. His mouth hung open from shock. "Y-you… **you**_…_"

"What's, wrong?" She tilted her head. "Are you, are, you… _crying_?"

He _was_. Even at her most listless, Kilat still saw the teardrops falling down his cheeks. "Those berries are **poisoned**, damn it!" he yelled at her. "W-wha, WHY? Why'd you eat them? Didn't you know better than that?"

Poisoned.

Worse, a poison that was mostly asymptomatic.

It explained Kilat's lethargy. It explained her lack of appetite, and the constant urge to curl and sleep. Combined with the shock from her fall, her stuffy nose, and the uncharacteristic coolness of the air, no wonder the dragoness had no symptoms.

It also explained Kilat's stoic reaction towards the furless ape's agitation. "I, I don't know," she mumbled quietly. "I, I was desperate for, for food, and… a-a-and… and it tasted so good…"

He remained still for a second to process her reply. His lips puckered into a deep and angry scowl, but he did not direct any of his anger at the child. "Damn it." He curled his fingers until they became fists, then he pounded the ground repeatedly, flailing next to the dragoness even if it did nothing for her. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! God _f*cking_ damn it!"

The furless ape glanced at her again, into her enervated eyes. "You need Spirit Gems," he echoed Explodon. "You **need** Spirit Gems!" He took a deep breath. "F*ck me, where's the nearest cluster?" He closed his eyes. "Gotta calm down. Got to calm the hell down and _focus_.

"All right. Deep breaths, man. Slow, deep breaths."

A few moments passed.

A curse Kilat did not understand went out of his mouth as soon as he opened his eyes again, but she was so enfeebled and languid that she could no longer bring herself to care about it at this point. "F*CK! Seriously? **Seriously?**"

The furless ape strode to the brink of this ledge. He cast his gaze down the steep, precarious slopes of the Dry Canyon. "Why did it have to be at the f*cking **bottom** of this f*cking canyon?" He fell to his knees and bawled almost as hard as Kilat did. "Why? Why, why, why, **why**?"

Though Kilat was mostly listless at this point and failed to understand what exactly he was yelling about, she still sought her new friend, seeking his company. "Are you… are you still there?" she called. The child hated the feeling of loneliness, especially now when her loved ones have been taken away from her. She wanted someone to be with her, even if the only person around her _was_ an ape. "Where, w-where are you?"

Before she knew it, she felt the hairless arms underneath her again. The dragoness gave the furless ape a warm smile, grateful for his company. To her surprise, he did not draw any comfort from Kilat's own little happiness and instead hugged her, burying _his_ head on _her_ neck. "I'm sorry. Life isn't making this easy. I want to help you, I really, **really** do. But I can't leave you alone. The forest predators could kill you while I'm gone. Or…

He choked. "Or… or those stupid apes will find you. I know they're not close right now but I won't underestimate them a single bit." His embrace tightened. "And, a-and, and even if I could, there's no point when I'll just absorb the f*cking gems anyway." He sobbed and cuddled against the child. "I'm sorry. I, I can't do anything for you. I'm really sorry…"

A moment of clarity gripped Kilat. She sensed death itself coming for her. She could hear the hymns of her Ancestors, calling her soul back to the earth. To be one with the Dragon Realms. But in these last few minutes before the poison numbed her into unending sleep, the electric dragoness regained enough lucidity to realize what her death would do to this person, to the furless ape who cared enough to actually cry for a dragon. For someone he did not even know.

"It's okay," she comforted him. The dragon child pushed him away a little, to look at his mournful visage. Was that how she looked like, when Lani died for her? When Explodon died for her? "It's okay," Kilat continued. "You did everything you could. You kept… you kept me company, and, a-and… you cared. You **really** cared. That means so much to me, a-and… and you don't know how grateful I am for that—

He silenced her last words by uttering only one. "Kilat."

Ancestors, he **knew** her name. He even pronounced it _right_. But how? She never introduced herself to the furless ape. Not even once.

"You don't understand." He looked away from her. His expression and body language radiated immense shame. "I was there when you faced those apes. I was there when you were being strangled by that Ape Commander. I was there, when that _invisible_ _baboon_ cut off your wing!"

A frustrated growl escaped him. "You don't know how much—how f*cking **much** I wanted to jump out there and fight those apes, too. I wanted to help you all. I didn't, I, I didn't want the three of you to die! But, but I, but I couldn't even force myself out there." He made eye contact with her. He sniffled. "Because I look so much like one of those apes you'd attack me anyway and because I… Because I…

"Because I can't fight at all! I can't use a weapon. I can't use magic. **I'm just not a hero**!" He lifted his hands and glared at them, revolted. Disgusted with himself. "All I have is this, this stupid power that **refuses** to work with me. I'm still figuring it out, but I've absolutely no idea how to control it. If I had gotten this thing to work right, maybe you three would all be alive. Maybe I'd be going with you all to Warfang, because that's where I'm headed, too! But how can I help you when I can't even help myself?

"I'm far from home. I'm _lost_. I don't know which way to go. Thankfully I _do_ know a little bit about Warfang and Avalar, but until I found myself here, I thought it was a beautiful place. It's only after I spent the past three days _surviving_ the forest that I learned this is a cruel and dangerous land. _Deadly_." The furless ape raised his hands and pulled the astounded dragon into his lap, hands over her neck. "Look at you. You're so young! You didn't deserve to have your wing cut off. You didn't deserve to be orphaned and come so far just to be killed because of someone else's f*cking insecurities."

Tears fell on her golden snout. "I've already failed you **once**. When I saw you here, I, I thought… I thought it was my second chance. To.. .to make things right, you know? I know I can't bring back Lani or Explodon, but right now I have a chance to help you before it's too late… if I can only figure out f*cking **how**!" The furless ape took her left forepaw in his hand and clasped it tightly. "I can feel you slipping away from me, Kilat. Believe me, I can, but this world doesn't give a shit. God doesn't give a shit! I feel so **f*cking** useless! I just want to help you, in any way I can. That's all I want! But I don't know what to do."

"I _don't _know what to do…" He sobbed. "I don't want you to die, Kilat."

Kilat had nothing to say to him. She was no less speechless than the first time he hugged her, when he defied every expectation she had for an ape that had her dead to rights. How could she possibly console someone who wanted to make up for his past mistakes? Who clearly wanted to help _her_ and be _her_ friend?

She felt herself slipping away, too. It must've been terrible for him, constantly aware how she faded slowly away from life. But Kilat saw a silver lining to this dark cloud, and she hoped the furless ape perceived it, too. At least she was dying in the arms of a friend. Not someone who wanted her to suffer until she went.

"I'm sorry for being such a disappointment," the adolescent said.

The golden dragoness did not say anything to that. Instead, she nuzzled her snout against the ape's dark shirt. "Can you… can you stay with me?" Kilat asked him. "Please? Until the end? I can… I can feel it coming too."

"Gladly. I'm not leaving you."

The child smiled and closed her eyes as well. A long and dreadful minute passed before Kilat spoke again. "You know, I, I never got your name, ape. What is it?"

"My name is Joshua Renalia. I usually go with just 'Joshua'. And I'm not one of those damn apes. I'm a human." You-man? Hoo-man? They both sounded the same to her.

It sounded a lot like hoo-man to her, she decided.

"I've never heard of a 'hoo-man'."

Joshua corrected her. "It's _human_." He sighed, gripping her forepaw as he hugged her hard. "You know, I wish… I **really** wish there's something else I can do for you. If we… if we met under better circumstances, I think, I think we would've made great friends."

"I think so, too," the dragoness murmured. "And maybe, by then you would've told me all about your species."

"You'd be surprised by what I'd tell you," Joshua laughed. "My species accomplished quite a bit." The sadness in it was unmistakable, but he tried to hide it in an effort to remain strong despite this disappointment.

Kilat, however, could not hold it in for long. Tears fell from her eyes, but the electric dragon no longer had the strength to wail as she had. "I wish you could do something too," she said, clinging to her life as long as she could before she couldn't fight off the poison any longer. Because she wanted to see what a life of peace was for dragons. Because she didn't want to disappoint Lani or Explodon. Because she still wanted to see if she has any family in Warfang. To learn more about her parents, about her siblings.

Because she also wanted to be better friends with someone who spent so much effort and care trying to help her. "I… Joshua, I, I don't want to die either."

.

.

Neither the dragon child nor the human teenager expected anything to happen here, not at the very last second. The Ancestors apparently did not care, and as all-powerful as Joshua's sole God sounded like, even He appeared apathetic to their plight.

But something _did_ happen.

Without warning, Joshua's hands radiated a blinding light in response to _something _the teenager would never figure out by himself. Not for weeks. Not for months. Indescribable horror etched itself on his face as he watched white mist engulf the electric dragoness. It completely enveloped Kilat, and the brown-skinned human gasped, upset at the turn of events. His only power triggered out of the blue and—

Kilat shrieked. All her bones flared as though a great, massive fire invaded her body and burned from within. Her scales prickled, throbbing with the sensation of countless stakes stabbing her poor nerves again and again. The agony of something flowing into her tormented her, and it was so painful the child wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

Joshua groaned and shook his head. He pictured something terrible. He found himself on the brink of crying, of throwing himself off the ledge. But he couldn't let go. He couldn't relinquish Kilat. Not the one, the_ first_ friend he's made in the messed-up Dragon Realms. Her screams shook him and almost broke his eardrums. Her high-pitched screeches imprinted themselves forever in his mind, but nonetheless he stayed with her. He promised to stay with the dragon child until the end, and he was loathe to break this promise, and to an innocent little girl, no less. Joshua Renalia collapsed on the ground, but held on, refusing to let go until the light surrounding the dragoness vanished.

Seconds passed.

Every second felt like hours, but the screaming eventually ceased.

The white fog dissipated into the air and it left behind… not a dead and mangled body, but a clean and woundless dragon. Kilat opened her eyes slowly. Everything **hurt**, and her nose still had some gunk left in it. She stretched her neck. She moved her paws, waving it around energetically to see if her fingers still worked. Her left wing was still reduced to a repulsive and unsightly stump, but at least it did not bleed anymore—

Wait. She was woundless? She was full of energy? Her stump no longer bled? Ancestors, was this even real? She _must_ be dead. But why did she still hear the sounds of a waterfall? Why was the sky a mixture of blue and orange? Why—

"Oh, my, f*cking **God**."

Kilat turned and saw the furless ape—saw Joshua looking up at her, sprawled all over the grass. His eyes dilated. Even he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You're… you're, not dead. You're okay." His teeth slowly revealed themselves in a happy and cheerful grin. "Holy shit! You're actually okay!"

Joshua attempted to pick himself up, but inexplicably he's lost all the energy and strength in his body. His arms shook uncontrollably when he propped himself, and it lasted so shortly he flopped back on the grass at once. "Did I do that?' he spoke, staring at his hands again. A confused frown began to form. "Did I… did I _really_ do that? But the last time this happened, I, I…"

Kilat interrupted Joshua by lunging at him as soon as her mind finally processed this sheer _impossibility_. She remembered how it felt like a thousand red Spirit Gems flushing themselves into her body, removing the poison, and mending every bone and every cut on her. It had hurt terribly, but in the end it was all for the best. "Joshua, I don't know what you did but thank you!" she squealed at the human, worming her way into his shirt until she felt his two arms hug her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"K-K, Kilat! I didn't do anything." They made eye contact. "I don't have _any _control over my power. But even if I did, it wasn't supposed to… it wasn't supposed to do **this**! Now I, I-I-I, I don't know what it does now! None of this makes **any** sense to me!"

"I don't care!" The child nuzzled the furless ape. She also licked his cheek multiple times, out of gratitude. "I'm alive. Ancestors! I'M STILL ALIVE! And it's all thanks to **YOU**!"

In the near future, Joshua Renalia looked back at this moment and disclaim anything pointed straight at him, instead asserting this miracle as an act of God or the Ancestors for as long as he lived. Yet the Guardians of Warfang eventually denounced his words—refuted them, rebutting that it had been something within him all this time, something that he could—that he _should_ master so hundreds of others may benefit.

In the present, Joshua wrote it off as another strange characteristic of his unique element. It changed everything he assumed about it, and now he was back to the drawing board of figuring it out. But the sudden reversal of Kilat's fortune had not fully registered in his mind yet. He simply yawned. Drowsiness was coming, and it was coming very fast. "Ugh, for some reason now **I** feel like sleeping. Can't even move. Too… freaking tired."

Kilat looked at him, her cobalt eyes bright and full of life. The fringes of her lips slightly curved into a smile. Something she did not have for the past few hours. "I'll keep an eye out for you," said the dragoness. She padded to the sprawled human with all four of her paws—all four _working_ paws—and coiled right next to him. "And I'll be right **here**."

In one automatic movement, Joshua wrapped his arms around the child's golden scales and embraced her. "Thank you," he said.

"No," Kilat retorted. "Thank **you**."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Kilat's survival, of course, was intended from the very beginning. She's briefly mentioned twice in the opening sequence in the first chapter, so it's pretty obvious that I've got her survival—and the method behind it—planned already. This also means that the underlying nature of Joshua's element remains consistent and has not yet been violated, despite all that I've shown so far.

Anyway, looking back, I could have very easily made the executive decision to simply kill her off, but with dignity and happiness in Joshua's arms. Still, as I was mapping out this story, I realized Joshua will eventually need a friend once he gets into Warfang. Someone who can relate with his situation to an extent and who can also be his anchor, to keep him grounded and sane in a world he doesn't belong in. When _Aimless _shifts its setting into the City of Dragons, survival becomes less of a priority while social interaction and personal fulfillment take the stage. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs at work. After all, this fanfiction exists to challenge the main theme underpinning most HTD / HIDR fanfiction in the _Spyro_ fandom, not add to it!

Soooo I guess Kilat got to live then. Lucky for her right? lol. I still feel regret at _not_ killing her off, but eh, I'm sure I can make up for it later.

Moving on, I'd like to say that_ Aimless_ will be shifting to the "Gates of Warfang" arc after the next chapter, and from there the story will slowly catch up to the opening scene. I'm getting really excited for this. I've been bouncing ideas back and forth with joelcoxriley (the fanwriter behind _Dishonored_) on the culture shocks I can pile on Joshua, so between world-building and the real plot, there're a lot of things I'm looking forward to… and unlike my main story in "that other fandom", I don't need to write another 300,000 words just to get there. Whew!

See you all next chapter.


	9. Information Exchange

**Chapter 9: Information Exchange**

* * *

"_It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."_

\- Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

"Whoops!"

"Oy, be _careful_! You can't fly."

"Ummmm, I actually never learned how."

"Kilat, you know what I mean!"

"Oh, I'll be fine! Keep worrying like that and you're _bound_ to lose your scales."

"I **don't** have scales, remember?"

"Joshua, you know what I mean!"

"Goddammit."

The dragon child bounded the trail ahead of him, skipping along the rock-strewn path with a smile on her muzzle. Her bubbly leaps, her vivacious trots, and her chirpy voice all gave away her spirited mood—a drastic change from the angst, resignation, and sorrow from yesterday. She woke up in the wee hours of the morning, refreshed and free of worries, if a little—a _lot _hungry after sleeping the entire night.

There were no immediate threats to her life.

She was happily on her way to Warfang.

She also basked in the sweet fortune of having no apes dogging her every step.

Well… she actually had _one_ ape following her.

A furless, mostly hairless ape, who apparently cared for her….

In fact, he cared for her so much he sweated profusely at the sight of the dragoness playfully scampering down the precarious slopes of the Dry Canyon with only eight feet separating her from an unfortunate and rather bloody death.

Joshua Renalia's heart skipped a beat every time the Electric dragon hopped on a rock that did not look sturdy to him (even if it really was) or failed to see the rattlesnake minding its own business on either side of the ledge (while its life signature pulsed from surprise and wariness). He skirted around the colorful and _angry -looking_ serpent glaring at him from its little hidey-hole before shaking his head in Kilat's direction. He took a deep breath and wiped off his sweat. "I swear," the teenager complained. "You'll be the death of me one day!"

The human had barely gotten two, no, three more strides down when his ears registered paws scurrying furiously. A golden snout popped up from below as two paws cohered to both his shoulders. Joshua fell backward on a patch of pebbles and weeds. "Holy shi—

_Thud._ "Ugh!"

"You don't mean that, do you?" Kilat's big, cobalt eyes bored into his. They looked _hurt_. "_Do_ _you_?"

Joshua groaned. "Well if you'd stop making me panic every time I look at you—

He never got to complete anything else. Kilat brought her snout down and nuzzled his cheek. Her natural breath smelled faintly like Clorox. "I'm ten years old," she said. "I'm a big girl. I'm not gonna do anything stupid."

_That's what I'm afraid of._

"Promise me you'll be more careful, okay? And don't stray too far from me. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Okay, okay, I promise."

He sighed. "Good. I'll hold you to that then. Now can you get off me, _please_?"

Kilat licked his face in response before she sprung away. Her gooey tongue left behind a thick, sticky trail of slobber on Joshua's face in its wake.

He was vexed. "Eew, not again! Ugh…"

The dragoness tittered, to his annoyance. "Remember what I said this morning!" she managed between giggles. "It's good for you!"

Joshua Renalia suppressed whatever rejoinder he had, let loose a subtle, but incoherent curse, and spat out what dribble got in his mouth. Kilat was a handful, he had to admit. There seemed to be no end to her playfulness. Just keeping an eye on her stressed him out every so often.

Sometimes, he wondered, was Spyro like this in _A New Beginning_, before he met Ignitus? How did Flash and Nina take care of someone large enough to eat them in a single gulp? How did they **discipline** a baby dragon, before it even knew the difference between right and wrong?

Wait. As a child, was Spyro that energetic to begin with? Sparx always enjoyed teasing him he was the fat one, and the Purple Dragon _did_ possess some level of respect for rules. Otherwise he might've gone into the cave where a scouting party of apes captured the talking dragonfly, probably **years** before the incident occurred. Then there wouldn't have been a need for Sparx to coax him into loosening up, and he might have never discovered the element of Fire, or even run into Ignitus if it wasn't for that cautious, respectful personality of his.

The human supposed this was something better posed to Spyro or Sparx if—no, _when_ he got to meet them.

He eyed the dragoness before him. Kilat stayed closer, as she promised—thank God—though she still had that worrisome spring in her step. She _definitely_ had none of Spyro's self-restraint, for sure. Kilat expressed herself openly and, the human saying went, wore her heart on her sleeve. Every time they spoke, it amazed Joshua how they could even understand each other.

Emerald eyes then examined her body in more detail. They took in the features Joshua didn't have the time for, back when she was on the brink of death. The child certainly looked different compared to what he expected a dragon from the Dragon Realms to look like. For one, Kilat actually **had** earlobes… if they could be called such. From Joshua's point of view, they looked more like frills, but they served the same purpose, and it needed an awkward question for Kilat to figure out most dragons typically had visible, uncovered holes on either side of the snout, much like lizards did back on Earth. The child admitted reluctantly—very reluctantly—how she happened to be one of the few that weren't "hatched that way". (Was she… embarrassed?)

Then there were the horns. Kilat sported thick, sturdy horns that curled tightly around her head and protruded forward, like a mountain ram. In contrast, Joshua remembered the other dragons' slender horns that curved further back from their head. More like deer antlers or the horns of a goat, and this characteristic seemed to persist through both the _Classic_ and _Legend_ trilogies. Joshua did not point out this dissonant trait anymore, not after the way Kilat hesitated to answer his question about her ears or the way she looked away with an expression on her muzzle that reminded him of a self-conscious little girl ashamed of something.

Should he also ask about her monotone color scheme? Last he checked, he wasn't in the _How To Train Your Dragon _world. Joshua Renalia just couldn't remember any character from the _Classic_ or _Legend_ verse with a single color defining their physical characteristics. Even the _Skylanders _dragons had a secondary color for their undersides. Surely, Kilat was another odd one out. Joshua pitied her a little. He wondered how life would be like for her in Warfang? Even if that Ape Commander failed to sever her wing, chances were high the other dragons would single her out. Would that be good? Would that be bad? Could dragons be as superficial as humans were?

Did dragons adhere to any sort of social values at all? How could they even coexist in the same city with at least one other sentient species? How similar were they to modern society back on Earth?

The human teenager had so many questions, but the video games **never** explored any of them. _Classic_ was too focused on the platforming and _Legend_ concentrated too much on the war effort. Next thing he knew, Joshua asked Kilat to wait for him and the second he caught up with her, he coiled his arms around her in a hug.

Kilat froze up a little, not that the human could blame her for it. That stupid ape nearly killed her with this move yesterday. But she relaxed fairly quickly and looked up at him. "….Joshua?" she asked. "Are you okay? Tired?"

He didn't say a word and shook his head.

Kilat didn't get it. "Y-you know, we just passed some Spirit Gems." She moved to backtrack. "We can go back and—

Joshua tightened his grip. "I'm fine, Kilat. I'm fine. Besides, those weren't the green ones."

"Oh." She stopped struggling. "Then…"

"I, I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what?" He detected the tinge of concern in her voice. That's the one thing he's noticed about her, and it seemed to permeate her every decision. The Electric dragoness was very watchful—no, _protective_ of him. It tempered even her child-like curiosity, and Joshua guessed the life she led had been hard enough on her that she held strongly—**selfishly**—onto people who cared for her.

He stroked her head. "You," he responded. "The other dragons. Warfang…"

"A lot of things, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Do they worry you?"

"…Yeah."

Kilat huffed. She nuzzled against Joshua's chest. "Then _stop_," she said, in all her innocent childishness. "Let's keep walking." She turned her head back towards the trail. Joshua looked on ahead. The trail was about to get a lot steeper from here, and obviously if he wanted to avoid going splat all over the Dry Canyon, Joshua would need to up his concentration. "We can talk all we want when we're down there."

He released the child, letting the dragoness step away from him. "All right," Joshua acquiesced. "I'll save it for later."

"Why does everyone older than me worry themselves to death?" She ground the soil beneath her forepaw. "It's _stupid_. You don't have to do it **all** the time."

Joshua didn't bother explaining how maturity worked. A child would not truly understand the way responsibilities and risks piled on and on every year. A child may even dread growing up and seeing the benefits of accountability. Instead he settled on a simple response Kilat would definitely appreciate. "We do it so _you_ don't have to, Kilat. You're supposed to **enjoy life** as much as you can while you're young. It's supposed to be the happiest times of your life."

She looked away from him. "Joshua, my life hasn't been really… I mean, I've—

"Look. It's not perfect, but it's better than suffering from the very beginning."

"That, that makes sense."

"Glad you got it." Then he saw the Spirit Gem clusters growing out of the wall. "Oh sweet, an XP gem! Haven't seen those in a while. And there's two of them!"

"A _what_? Ex-pee? What're you talking about?"

Joshua raised his walking stick, spread his feet for stability, and started whacking his target. "Just shut up and bash the other one. You know what the blue ones do, right?"

"…uhmmm…"

A few fragments fell off. "They make your Element stronger!" He smacked it again. Thank the Lord these crystals were brittle. "Don't you know this?"

"No… Elements never interested me."

Joshua grunted as he thrust at the cluster thrice, dislodging enough crystals to make a 6-inch pile directly below it. "Uh huh."

"Lani's always been the one who wanted to 'get stronger'. _Noooot_ me."

"If you ask me, you still _need_ to be good at using your Element no matter what you want to do with your life." One last strike and the entire crystal crumbled completely. The human grabbed a few and watched the illustrious blue fade to gray before disintegrating to dust. "The Guardians used to have a temple over there," he turned to the horizon and pointed at the massive volcano rising from the far distance, "before Malefor went and turned it into **that**. They had training rooms. They run on magic so they can make dummies you can practice on."

Kilat quickly put two and two together. "I guess you're right." She smiled at him.

Joshua grinned. "And besides, it'll be a waste if you don't do anything with your Element. Your electricity's really impressive. You could do the Electric Orb! The Purple Dragon didn't even know that until **well after** he defeated Cynder and got some more training from the Guardians."

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe I'm _better_ than the Purple Dragon at something—wait." The child ogled him. "Hey, how would _you_ know this? You're talking like you've seen this yourself."

Joshua Renalia remained calm. Composed, he smoothly bent down and clutched two of the XP crystals, watching his hands absorb their energy within. To Kilat, he hoped, he looked like the perfect portrait of tranquility. A young man with all the answers. But deep inside, all of that was a fake.

He did everything he could to keep his breathing stable as he stared deep into the XP crystals. He cursed himself. _Damn it, Joshua! Damn it! You just __**had**__ to let it slip! _The human did not want to come clean with Kilat just yet. She'd think he was crazy… insane! "Well…"

Telling the first **ever **friend he made in the Dragon Realms he came from a world where their entire planet and the history she knew was a figment of someone's imagination—a mere _fiction_—definitely wouldn't go well. And if she would have had a hard time accepting that alone, then how about when he blew her over with the knowledge that he _controlled_ Spyro the Dragon? That he **saw** his history, his struggles—even some of his personal issues? What if it _spread_ across the city when they got there?

Goddammit, he didn't want to deal with this question so soon—

And Kilat decided to accelerate his answer. "Well, what?"

"Well, humanity has a way of keeping track with your history." _Yes. Yes. This may just work. _

"Oh?"

Fall for it, he prayed. _Fall for it. _"Yeah, and it relies on **very** complicated technology. My species invented this thing called a 'camera', and it lets us view things from far away!" _C'mon, c'mon. Believe my bullshit. C'mon, Kilat… _

The dragoness gave him an astounded look. "You're pulling my tail!"

"Nope, I swear to you, I'm not. That's why I know these things."

"But... but… but how?"

Yes! She fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Joshua scratched his head and flashed a sheepish grin. _Good one, meezter Joshua. Very good one. _"Hell if I know. I never bothered learning exactly _how_ a camera works. But there's one thing I do know: a camera runs on **electricity**."

Kilat stayed silent. Rather than replying, the electric dragoness simply turned to the second cluster of Spirit Gems. She swiped and thumped and bashed it until it crumbled into fragments, before absorbing all the XP crystals herself. "Electricity, huh?" he heard the child mumble.

Watching Kilat launch herself at the cluster of Spirit Gems with vigor and fervor, Joshua Renalia absorbed the last fragment from his own pile and reminisced over the events of this morning. The dragoness had certainly gotten more used to him and, judging from the way she accepted his bullshit at face value, clearly saw him much more than a "furless ape", hailing from a society with a distinct and foreign culture from her own.

Looking back, the morning wasn't _that_ eventful. Joshua woke up with the sun barely peeping over the horizon. Kilat stood on all fours, and she had been prodding him with her paws—nuzzling him with her snout for a good twenty seconds before the human finally woke up.

But unlike last sundown—after his power broke his mind and healed her instead of repeating the "Death Hound" incident and turning her body into another unsightly corpse—Kilat stayed quiet. She kept to herself more. At the time, she did not talk as much, and she certainly wasn't at all "touchy-feely" with him even when it was clear that's the kind of person this dragoness was.

Was she nervous? He thought. Or did she still distrust him just because he looked like an ape, even after she had long hours of restful sleep?

He heard her stomach growl. "C'mon," he said to her. "Help me get some food here. I'll climb the tree and dislodge the red and blue berries. You get all the ones you can find on the ground."

"…okay…"

"And **NO** yellow berries! I know they're tasty, but I don't want you dying on me again! Understand?"

"Yeah…"

Other than one-word responses and noncommittal grunts and whines, the electric dragoness did not talk to him at all. She held herself aloof, not interacting in any way. Yet she ate her berries right next to Joshua, and the child never strayed from his side. Maybe it was just the awkwardness of traveling with a stranger?

"Kilat?" he tested the waters. Hopefully she remembered she was with someone who saved her life.

"Joshua?" At least she got the pronunciation right the first time. Kilat had a decent voice. It didn't sound as mature as Cynder's, but at the same time not as fluffy as Ember's. He could hear the youth in it, and Joshua imagined the child would have had a good singing voice if she was human.

"I've been wondering. I know you've never seen my kind before, but… have you **ever** heard of humans at all? We sometimes call ourselves humanity or humankind."

"No, never. Even Explodon wouldn't know what you are. I think he'll just call you a 'furless ape' like I did."

"Not even in stories? Myths? Or legends?"

"Sorry, but no."

Joshua couldn't figure out a way to respond to this. The child's responses meant humanity **never** existed on this planet. They have never been heard of. Not in a historical narrative. Not in a myth. Not in a legend. Was he… was he the only human to ever set foot in the Dragon Realms?

Kilat's chuckles brought him out of his thoughts. "Funny you ask. The people I grew up with know about the Purple Dragon of Legend, and they're not even dragons."

Funny? _Funny? _No, it wasn't funny that he could possibly be the only living human in this world! The fact he could even understand her words as solid English was a miracle in and of itself. He resisted the urge to give the child a light slap in the head and instead focused on the opening that just presented itself. "You didn't grow up with dragons?"

"No. I grew up in a village of foxes and mongooses. It's about six days away from here by foot."

"What," Joshua hesitated to ask. "What happened to your parents? How did you end up in—

"Orphaned during the war," the dragoness answered. "The **Apes** killed everyone in my family seven years ago. Same with Lani. But we managed to escape from our settlement because of them." Her head drooped. "I just wish that they, t-that they also got away, too…"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she asked, and tilted her head. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything."

"It's a human saying," Joshua explained to her. "It means I understand how you feel, and I hope there's something I can do to help you feel better about it."

The child leaned on him. "Just don't ask me about it again. Please."

"Okay," nodded the teenager. "Then… how long has it been since the Purple Dragon defeated Malefor?"

"You… don't know?"

"I haven't been paying attention in a while," he admitted. "Been busy with a lot of things." If only she knew he meant a lot of other video games, including new gaming consoles, new movies, and of course, new schoolwork and new ways to make friends.

"Oh. Uhhh, about four years now."

"Four years?" he repeated. Joshua remembered Explodon saying she and Lani weren't that much older than ten. So that placed Kilat at six years old during the _Dawn of the Dragon_, and three during _The Eternal Night_ and _A New Beginning_. That meant…

She was orphaned in the same year Spyro emerged from the swamps and took down Cynder? That sounded like horrible luck to him.

"But that would've made you three years old when the Purple Dragon appeared. I thought dragons are only born every twelve years, during the Year of the Dragon?"

"Not true," she corrected him. "Dragon eggs hatch much faster than that. Lani told me that 'Year of the Dragon' thing is just a tradition we've followed for thousands and thousands of years."

"Oh."

Joshua Renalia considered talking to her some more, if only to break more ice. But the tone in her voice suggested she wasn't all that interested in a conversation and an invisible tension hung between them. The human and this young dragon weren't exactly friends, but the latter at least appeared willing to talk. _I'll just give her some more time_, he concluded.

His gaze went skyward. The sky was now a bright orange. "It's time to go." He walked towards the edge of the pond, a few steps away from where he left his walking stick yesterday when he went and coaxed Kilat out of her hiding place. "I want to be done with this place before the sun goes down again."

But it turned out that all Kilat needed was an opportunity to express herself comfortably.

Such an opportunity came as soon as Joshua put his hands in the water and moved to wash his face.

"That water's icky, you know," the dragoness said as she plodded to him. "You shouldn't wash your face with it."

"And how else am I going to clean myself if there's no water?" he retorted, if a little testily.

He did not notice Kilat flinch from tetchy response and instead returned his hands to the water, gathered some up in his palms, and—

"Don't!" the child insisted. "It's dirty! You _know_ it's dirty! It's bad enough we got to drink from it, but you shouldn't add more dirt to it!"

"Okay! Okay!" Joshua groaned. He flicked the water away. He glared at the offending dragoness, drilling into her cobalt eyes. "Fine! I won't use it anymore."

Kilat closed her eyes and beamed. "Good!"

"And what now?" He scowled at the damn child. "I **need** to wash up. Do you have a _better idea_ than this 'dirty water'?"

The dragoness looked at him and responded coolly. "Actually, I do."

"And where can I get it?"

"Don't worry! I'll _give _it to you."

His eye twitched. "Huh? What in God's name are you—**HEY!**"

Kilat suddenly pounced on him, and for the first time that day, Joshua Renalia found himself with a dragoness as heavy as three adult dachshunds sitting on top of his chest. He stared at her. "K-Kilat? What're you—

"I can barely remember it, but mom _always_ told me to stay still."

Joshua didn't like the way the dragon child's muzzle loomed right above his face. "Stay still for what?" He took a deep breath. "Ugh, can you get off please? It's a little hard to breath with you—ACK!"

Kilat licked him.

.

.

She licked him again and again…

.

.

And again.

.

"Gah!" he yelled and suddenly the muck got in his mouth. "Blargh!" He coughed. "Bleh. Ki—lpt! G—roff! Goff!"

She paused. "I said stay still! You aren't making this easy."

"Of course I'm not! Just get off me or I'll—!"

Joshua shuddered at the sinewy, slimy muscle that scraped along his cheeks and his nose. It slid across his eyes. Across his forehead. Across his lips and chin. It felt less like sandpaper and more like a sticky smoother. But he couldn't exactly take comfort from this when his **face** already had a nice and generously thick coating of slobber all over it. Who knew a dragon's muzzle had such a _copious_ amount of muck in it?

"Hold on. She always did thirty. Just need ten more sweeps."

Ten more? **TEN **f*cking more?

"It's okay," he said. "I'm—good. I—I'm cle—blah! I'm clean! I'm—GAH!"

The weight vanished from his chest. Joshua sat up instantly. Kilat took his hands in her mouth and coated it in almost the same way she did with his face. But he didn't fight anymore. Not when it was already _pointless_ to. Joshua Renalia took his first breath, and all hell broke loose.

He snorted up some of the disgusting gunk. The unholy marriage of Clorox and halitosis filled his nose with such an intensity Joshua suppressed the urge to hurl. "**Yuck! **That's gross, Kilat. That is so _f*cking_ disgusting, like you have no idea."

Kilat was offended. "_Excuse me?_" Her muzzle open with a most baffled expression, she dissented. "You think that's **gross**?" Her golden tail flickered up and smacked Joshua's cheek.

"Ouch!"

"I cleaned you up the way **MOM **used to do and _Ancestors_, you're telling me it's **disgusting**?"

"But I smell like _dragon drool_ now!" Joshua complained. He brought his fingers to his face and felt the fluid stick a little. He shuddered again. "I'm sorry if I insulted you but, ugghhhhh, I just don't **do**this—and you really slathered it all over my face."

"Of course I did! My mouth is _so much cleaner_ than what you can find sitting out here."

He grimaced. He tried to wipe off the thick coating, but in the end, Joshua's efforts proved fruitless as they left a thin glaze he had no choice but to let evaporate. "That's what she said."

Kilat heard the sarcasm instantaneously. "Joshua, if you don't believe me, at least you **know** where it came from and what it had in it."

"Oh my God," Joshua moaned. "This _can't _be a common thing in Warfang." If it was, he didn't know if he should slap himself silly every night, get drunk on whatever passed for liquor, or throw himself into a wall before going to bed and knock himself out.

The dragoness tilted her head. "I don't know. Licking is the most natural thing for us. Mom used to clean me every morning. It's one of my fondest memories of her." She glowered at the human, and the teenager thought Kilat might try to nip him or something.

Fortunately she didn't. "The foxes liked to comb themselves. Same for Mongooses. They only jump into—_ugh_—a river if they _really, really, __**really**_ have to, like if they got mud or pebbles or _something_ in their fur. But they never smell."

He sighed. "You're going to do this to me every morning, aren't you?"

"And every **night**!" she pledged. "Until you see the light and admit it's **good for you**! But don't worry. I promise, when you start _coming to me _for it, I'll happily oblige!"

The dragoness then snorted. "Ancestors, you apes are funny with your _constant _need to be clean. And you also have your personal hygiene all messed up! No wonder you all _stink_."

That last comment spurred Joshua into action. No matter how much he could tolerate a daily tongue bath f*cking twice a day, there was no way in hell he was letting the dragoness get away with this. He didn't care how old or naïve she was. The teenager brought his damp hands on her horns and forced eye contact. "Kilat, can you _please_ remember that I'm **not **one of those stupid apes? I'm **human**! And look, we don't have fur. We don't have scales. Some of us don't even _have_ hair. We only have the clothes we're wearing. That's why humans **need** to be clean all the time."

The dragoness's eyes widened and she tried to turn away, but Joshua held her steady. "Uhm," she stammered. "I, I, I'm sorry. I kinda forgot you're hoo-man—

"_Human_."

"Hoo-man." _Ahh forget it. I'll just fix this later! _"S-sorry, Joshua. It's just you, y-you look so much like that ape that killed Explodon. I sometimes think you're one of them, but… but just without all that hair.

"And a whole lot kinder," she mumbled.

An awkward pause lingered between Joshua and Kilat. He released her, but he still answered the urge to retort. "Humans are _sort of_ related to apes," he spoke, attempting to simplify the concept of genetics to a little dragon girl the size of a small dog. "But we're **not** apes. My species conducted a lot of studies to trace that back to some common link and until now we haven't found it yet. We _share_ some of our looks with them, okay. But we're also very _different_. We're not as instinctive, we're **very** curious about everything, and we can be kind to a fault. Even if I didn't know you were a dragon, I would've helped you anyway. In fact, _many _humans would've helped you just because you were hurt."

She looked up at him, her muzzle held agape by disbelief. "Really?"

"Really."

After a few seconds, she approached him of her own accord and nuzzled his shoulder. "C-can you, can you tell me more a, about, humanity?"

Joshua Renalia glanced at the sky. The sun had gone up a little bit. Ten minutes must have passed, he figured. They needed to go.

He rubbed her shoulder and gave the child a brief hug. "I can't tell you everything now," he informed her. "Not in one sitting." The young gamer leaned to the side, picked up the walking stick, and rose to his feet. "We need to get going or we'll waste a lot of time."

He sniffled—egad, he could still smell all that dragon drool all over him. The thought of enduring that nasty "cleaning" twice a day revolted Joshua, but if he had to take responsibility for Kilat one way or another, then he supposed he could get used to it for the time being, until he found a way to _persuade_ Kilat to back off a little. Hopefully Warfang's non-dragon residents bathed with clean water. "But if you come up with anything, I'll try to give you an answer when thinking isn't going to kill me, okay?"

"I... do, just have, uh, one question."

"For now?"

"For now."

"Okay. And?"

"Do humans have Elements, too? Like dragons?"

"No, we don't." He raised his hands. "I'm a special case, I think."

"Are you **sure** what you have's an Element?"

"Yeah," he said. "I can absorb Spirit Gems, just like you."

Kilat had no argument before such an indisputable fact, because she knew only dragons could absorb the Spirit Gems. "But I… I've never heard of an Element like yours. It healed me. I even saw it, bounce off my 'Electric Orb'." _Really now?_ That was a new one. He must've done that yesterday and he never noticed. "Did it do anything else?"

Joshua confessed, "Last time I've seen the white stuff come out, it turned a wolf into a dead body. One second it was coming for me. The next, it's on the grass staring at me with dead eyes."

"That's…"

The child gazed at him. "That's really strange… and _terrifying_. Explodon told me about the 'Purple Element' once, and yours sounds just as scary."

"I know," Joshua admitted. "And I don't even know how it works. Can't even control it."

"Do you think there's a myth behind it? You know, like a legend? Or a prophecy, maybe?"

He stared at her, amused. "Mythology? On me? Ha! I doubt it." Joshua Renalia placed his hand on the wall of the canyon. The trail narrowed at this point, and from here the risk of slipping increased substantially, especially with the heat coming up in a bit. "I really, **really** doubt it."

"Hey, you never know." Demonstrating a sudden change of character, Kilat galloped past him. "By the way, I'm going ahead!"

"Why?"

"I'll be keeping an eye out for _anything_."

"Like…?"

"Snakes I can kill? Scorpions? I don't know. Whatever can hurt you. **Us**."

"I can sense life within a certain distance because of my Element."

"I can see _farther_ than you."

_Touché._

"Fine," he yielded. "Just don't go too…"

And she's off!

"…far." The human watched her trot down at least thirty paces ahead before stopping to turn back, gaze at him, smile, and flap her only wing like some kind of greeting. He found it so cute he couldn't yell at her. "Damn kid."

Joshua followed her down the slope. As the minutes passed, he realized that at some point during his "cleaning", during their argument, and during their talk about humanity, Kilat the Electric dragoness had become more open, more expressive, and certainly more carefree. He supposed this was the kind of person she really was, and he had to admit, he liked this Kilat much better than a sniveling, pathetic golden dragon weeping over the recent deaths of her friends.

His feet blistered from his makeshift slippers' lack of protection against the rocks. His muscles ached with every step down, but Joshua Renalia was fortunate for the occasional cluster of red and green Spirit Gems to restore his body and stamina.

An hour down the trail, weaving underneath trees and avoiding cacti scattered on the precarious path, Joshua's mind couldn't resist revisiting the last bit of speculation Kilat left him with, back on at the ledge with the waterfall and its pond. Had he truly been called here into the Dragon Realms? Was there really a legend involving him? A prophecy? Just like Spyro the Dragon and his foretold victory over the Dark Master?

The human couldn't help but muse. _The Legend of Joshua Renalia…_

Joshua snorted and shook his head. _Jesus, that sounds so stupid I hope anyone who'd come up with that dull garbage dies a horrible death a thousand times over._

A sound from the path ahead snapped him back to the descent. "Whoops!" Luckily too, or he might have stepped on a weak spot in the rocks. Then he realized the sound came from Kilat.

"Oy, be _careful_! You can't fly."

"Ummmm, I actually never learned how."

"Kilat, you know what I mean!"

"Oh, I'll be fine! Keep worrying like that and you're _bound_ to lose your scales."

"I **don't** have scales, remember?"

"Joshua, you know what I mean!"

"Goddammit."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Just the initial bonding between Joshua and Kilat. Breaks the ice between them, and shows off Kilat's personality and a little world-building. It's mostly filler, obviously. But hey, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I wrote it.

Unfortunately this means I'll have to push back the final chapter of the "Wilderness" arc to the tenth. Still, expect a few time skips to happen in the next chapter. I'll be doing this to set it up for the conclusion of this little arc and move on to the next story arc ("Gates of Warfang") as originally intended.

And yes. I couldn't resist that last bit at the end. Most HTD/HIDR writers aren't exactly imaginative with their titles, sadly. Lol.


	10. Looking Back

**Chapter 10: Looking Back  
**

* * *

"_It's away from home when you realize the true meaning of a parent's love and family."_

\- Unknown

* * *

From above, the Dry Canyon looked like a gigantic fissure in the earth, a hideous wound cutting across lush fields and jade forests for miles and miles on end. A dark thread of blue slinked through its twists and turns, around gargantuan boulders shining crimson under the sun, rocks that looked more like it belonged in a volcano than a canyon.

Dragons used to flight would never discover the hidden treasure of the Dry Canyon. From below, the walls glowed like a prism of gray, of orange and red. Closer to the bottom, soft sand replaced the rocks and gravel, broken only by the occasional cluster of Spirit Gems. Its arid desert-like terrain contrasted the verdant forest atop the rim. Beneath the dipping sun, it became a window, illumining into a memory Joshua didn't expect to be still fresh.

"Psst! Hey! Hey! Look at me. Come, look at me!"

"OH MY GOD! _Dad_, what the **f*ck** are you doing?"

"Oh, c'mon. Don't let your mom hear you—

"Eeeeeeeek!"

"Speak of the devil."

Joshua knew his mother the moment she walked into sight. Her white, youthful hands cupped her face, and her brown eyes were so dilated he thought they would pop. "Jeff! Get away from there!"

Jefferson Renalia grinned as he whipped a plastic expandable stick from Jesus knew where. The telltale shape of a camera was affixed to one end. And, the daredevil that he was, he courted fate as he raised the selfie stick high into the air, where he hoped to catch an unforgettable photograph of himself, where the ground spread out far behind him. It would only take one misstep—one little stumble—for Joshua's father to fall 800 feet down the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

_Click_.

His mother tramped and clomped in place, squealing fearfully every second Jeff ignored her. "Honey, please, please, please, just-get-_back_ here already!"

The playful father stuck a tongue at his wife and beckoned his eldest son forward. He pointed to another outcropping, just five feet away. "Son," he said. "Go over there and take a photo of me sitting down on the ledge."

"**What.**"

"You heard me. Get your phone and take a shot."

Joshua groaned. "Dad, if you keep fooling around like this, we won't have enough time to walk down to Skeleton Point. This is our last day in the States. I want to—

"_Joshua_. We won't have many overlooks like this on the way down."

"But—

"Don't worry about it!" Jefferson crouched and took a seat on the ledge, feet dangling far above the yawning pit. He moved far too fast for comfort, from the way his mother screamed, even Joshua thought he slipped. "You realize we're missing **90%** of the Grand Canyon? South Kaibab's just one trail out of 30 _plus_."

"Dad, I know, but I—

"Just do it."

Joshua sighed.

"Son, look at it this way: the sooner you do it…" Joshua's father, a well-built man with skin as brown as the earth, gestured at his mother. "The sooner you can get Erika to stop screaming."

The window slammed shut, startling Joshua Renalia out of his brief trip into the recent past. He stared down to the right, where he saw the shape of a giant lizard rubbing against his shin like a cat. A warm, scaly, and odd-looking cat of gold with misshapen horns on its head.

He gawped at the cat-goat-ram…thingamajig with an astonished expression, and it was not until he got a good look at the only wing curled up on its right flank and heard her unsullied voice that he finally remembered.

And when he remembered, he blushed from embarrassment. That was the last time he would blank out like that. _Never again!_

"Y… yes?"

"You've been staring up the canyon for five minutes," Kilat uttered. She tilted her head. "Why? There's nothing up there but rocks." She pouted and strolled around for a second before motioning towards the open valley spread out before them. "There's nothing **here** but rocks! What's so amazing about this place?"

Joshua resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the child's comment. What's so amazing, she asked. He smirked at the thought of answering her. _Time to flex some game lore._

"Have you heard of the Destroyer? During the war four years ago?"

"I only know the Purple Dragon of Legend ended the war and killed the Dark Master," the dragoness replied. "I never learned the details. They didn't know anything else." And by _they_, Joshua figured, she meant the three adolescent dragons she met at her home village.

He barked a laugh. "Luckily for you, I happen to know _plenty_."

Kilat hummed. "That 'camera' thing again, huh?"

"Yup."

The way her lips curved left and right on her muzzle revealed volumes about her thoughts. Either Kilat was just as bad at concealing emotions as Joshua was, or she only freely expressed herself to those she had grown comfortable with. (Joshua's ego voted for the former straight out.) "One day I'd like to make a camera," she said, her words intoned with an unusual zeal.

Was she humoring him? Or was that doubt he heard there?

"One day," he indulged her. _Whatever. It's not like I'm lying. _Joshua knew he'd instantly regain his credibility the second Kilat audited this information with the Guardians. "Okay! So the Dark Master—

She opened her mouth.

Joshua cut her off. "That's Malefor. You following?" Then he went on, "He started this whole war in the first place so he could _cleanse_ the world. Burn it clean of all life and start again from the beginning, with him manning the helm."

"Umm… 'Manning the helm'?"

Damn. Even though they both conversed in English, the human had completely forgotten she didn't know even the simplest of Earth's idioms. "It means 'in control'."

"Oh. You should've just said so"

"Sorry. I keep forgetting you're not human either," Joshua apologized.

Kilat laughed. He loved hearing her laugh. It never failed to pull him away from his own thoughts and disappointments. "You and me both," she added.

"So Malefor used his magic to summon this massive golem, **the size of a mountain**"—and he spread his arms wide, exaggerating the movements for emphasis—"and had it literally walk across the world, leaving behind a wall of fire so hot even a fire dragon can't take it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But if it was just walking all over the world, wouldn't that take days?"

"Not for the Destroyer," Joshua educated. "It moved fast for a giant. _Unimaginably_ fast. Once it sunk into the distance on one side, it'll come back up again from the other in less than a day. There's no way the dragons could keep up with it."

Kilat's ears went rapt with attention. Her cobalt eyes did not even blink as much. The dragoness was hooked, whether she knew it or not. "So how did the Purple Dragon stop the Destroyer? I know he did it. He **did** end the war. I remember seeing the land break up in chunks four years ago and then get pulled back together."

Joshua didn't even get to reply when the dragoness took a step towards him. "How did he do it? Do you know how, Joshua? Do you know, do you know?"

_Man, she's adorable, even if she's sometimes too much to handle. _

"Hehe, yes, I do." Joshua Renalia bent down and scooped the child in his hands. Kilat's underbelly flinched at his touch, but otherwise offered no resistance at all. He brought her to his chest and leaned back a little. Like a cat she brandished her claws and gripped his stained shirt, her only wing folded along her back. With one arm supporting the dragoness, Joshua's free arm gestured at the Dry Canyon spreading out before them. A hilltop overlooking the massive rise and fall of the earth. "Sp—the Purple Dragon and his friends decided to _intercept_ the Destroyer close to the finish line—

"Errrrrr…"

"Close to the end of the circle," he elucidated. "And stop it right before it could complete its journey." A finger was thrust towards the broken dam, which looked so much farther than Warfang did before they descended the canyon. "They broke that dam and **flooded** **this canyon** under so much water it couldn't move, giving them the opportunity to break the Destroyer down piece by piece.

"That's why the dam's all messed up when you squint at it."

He pointed at the few enormous, unnaturally red boulders strewn around the Dry Canyon. "That's why those big rocks are there." At the atypical pits and indentations scattered across the canyon floor. "That's why the ground also looks like that."

Kilat gasped in awe.

"You're standing in **history**, Kilat. Also, it's only been four years, so I don't think the rest of Warfang knows about this yet."

"Wow. That **is** amazing."

"Besides," he added, looking down at her with a smile. "The canyon's beautiful to look at, too. It reminds me of my family back home."

Kilat's childish curiosity shoved her in this direction in an instant. "Really? Did you live near something like this?"

"No," he answered. He stroked her only wing and set her down before his arm started shaking uncontrollably. _God, she's _heavy_!_ "But there's a canyon _every human's heard of_, and it's about just as big as this one. We call it the Grand Canyon. It's in a coun—a _land_ we call the United States of America, and it's so _beautiful _hundreds of people visit it every year no matter how far away they lived."

The dragoness easily picked up the implications. "And your family… they visited this 'Grand Canyon'?"

"Yeah. My dad, my mom, my younger brother and sister… we went there about… about a few months ago during my summer break. Spent about three days exploring the place." Joshua spoke with a tone of nostalgia and bliss, though he still recalled how much he abhorred, how much he detested every single minute they spent trekking down the trails, stupidly braving past the final viewpoints in each one that separated the casual hiker from the hardcore mountaineer.

"How long did it take you all to get there? It sounds like it's far—_really_ far from your home."

"Actually," the teenager chuckled, his guard so relaxed he didn't realize what he was saying until the words formed and had gone out long after he missed the opportunity to stop them from going out. "From where I lived, it's roughly 19 hours by flight to the nearest international airport."

She looked up at him. The child's maw popped open in a most dumbfounded expression. She was utterly speechless.

"What?" Joshua asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

Still silent. Still processing.

"Uhm… Kilat? I haven't really said—

"**Hoo-mans** can fly?"

The young man chastised himself for the slip. _Goddammit, Joshua._ He had to stop loosening up every time he bonded with his new friend like this. Why did he do this? This was the _second time_ he slipped today! WHY? It couldn't be hard to internalize—to _register _the fact he was in a different world, with a different set of rules, with a people whose culture was so foreign, whose circumstances were so different, that they could not _possibly_ comprehend the mastery over which humanity manipulated the world in the 21st century. She's a talking dragon, for Christ's sake!

God, he had no choice but to fess up to this one. "Uhhhh, yes? Again, it's _human._"

Kilat shook herself from her stupor. Her eyes darted up at him. Joshua watched her snout move up and down, eyes tracking every contour of his body. "Hoo-mans can **FLY**?"

He groaned as the dragoness circled him, sniffing his body like a dog. "You know what, Kilat, I'm going to shut up and enjoy the view until you—HEY!" Then she copied a cat and vaulted up his back. He arched as he felt her talons sink through his shirt, ascending him until she sat precariously on his shoulder. Her weight put him in a terrible posture, and Joshua was starting to get frustrated at how **comfortable** she was with him, how she **blatantly** used him however and whenever she wanted. "Tch. Next time _please _warn me before you do something like that!" Jesus Christ, she was such a chi—

And Joshua mentally slapped himself for the thought. For a moment there he'd completely forgotten Kilat **was** a child.

"A—h-ho—but—b-b-but you don't have wings," Kilat poked at him, sniffed at his temple thrice. Her prehensile tail swished across his back. "Ancestors! How can you fly if you don't have wings?"

Her innocent question led to a long discussion. That conversation alone sapped out of Joshua Renalia all the high he felt upon seeing the Dry Canyon and its impressive expanse from the bottom-up, recalling that family trip to the Grand Canyon, and how it felt as if it took place _ages ago_. His attempt to satiate the child began with a talk about airplanes, only to spawn a topic on what little he knew about its invention, about its construction, and about its operation.

What was he, a walking Wikipedia? He didn't know everything! He tried to stamp—to drill this indisputable reality into Kilat's head, but her questions kept coming, again and again and again. And when he mentioned how airplanes ran on electric power the girl suddenly realized how important her Element was to modern human society she veered straight into the practical applications of electricity.

Damn it all. Her interrogation was nuts. Long after the sun had gone down, by the time they found a tall hill in the middle of the canyon, a short walk up from the river, and set a suitable campsite with a large pile of plucked grass and leaves for a bed and a small fire pit, Joshua Renalia's patience had finally run thin and he exploded on the young dragoness.

"Shut up already!" Joshua screamed at her. "Just **stop**! Goddammit, **STOP!**"

Kilat flinched, maw shutting in an instant. She backpedaled and curled into herself, afraid of the human's outburst and his pent-up rage. The look on her face was pitiful, but Joshua refused to let her get away at pissing him off with all her incessant questions just because she made an irresistibly cute face.

"I **don't know** everything!" He kept yelling. "I don't know how a cellphone works. I don't know how we convert fire, water, and wind into electricity, or how we used all our knowledge to put a man on a moon! I wish I have all the answers you want, Kilat, but I only know **what** my species accomplished. Jesus Christ, don't expect me to tell you exactly **how **we did it because I _just don't f*cking_ know all this _shit_ **BECAUSE** **I'M ONLY HUMAN**!

He gestured to the four skewers by the fire, which held up a couple of wild rabbits Kilat hunted herself and some wild carrots and tomatoes Joshua scrummaged from the surrounding wilderness. "So shut up and eat. We got a long climb ahead of us tomorrow. Okay?"

The look on Kilat's muzzle told him the dragoness could not—did not comprehend his last four words, yet in spite of her blankness she was still too shocked to coherently answer, let alone say something.

"_Okay?"_

Kilat recoiled from the sound—the irked cadence in his voice. "…O-o, okay," she stuttered. The child got on all fours and strolled away from him. She went to the other side of the campfire and settled there, taking two of the four skewers in her mouth and, one by one, setting them beside her.

As she heartily devoured the roasted rabbit and did her best in eating the unusual vegetables, the golden electric dragon refused to look in Joshua's direction even once. The human felt a little guilty, snapping at the child as he did. But she had it coming, he told himself. He had tried to tell her many times to stop, and it took one loud screaming session to finally put an end to this annoying, childish bullshit.

Had Lani ever disciplined Kilat before? Had her foster parents, if she had any at all, ever attempted to rein in her nonstop curiosity, even for her own sake?

Joshua Renalia stood up after chewing through a rabbit leg. The meat was soft, easy to eat. It also had a slightly slick texture to it, but otherwise its taste was excellent. Almost like chicken, he believed. He never had rabbit meat before, but there was always a first time for everything, right?

He walked past the dragoness—not once did she speak or dare to glance in her direction as they ate their dinner for the night. Her life pulse flashed as he passed, contracting and expanding uncontrollably as much as she shivered in his wake. He almost imagined sobs coming out of her muzzle. Joshua wondered if she was afraid to see him blow up at her again, maybe even hurt her. As he knelt in front of the river and drank the water, he wondered why she might think he'd do that now, after saving her life. After helping each other.

After becoming friends.

But then again, Kilat **was** a child and had the mentality of one, and at times Joshua found himself wishing she had Spyro's self-restraint.

He shot another glance at Kilat when he returned to their meager campsite. She suddenly curled in on herself, as if she had been watching him make his way back up here. Her tail wrapped itself around her. Protectively.

Joshua sighed. "Kilat…"

She remained still.

She pretended not to hear.

Joshua sighed again and made his way to the other side of the fire, trying to get comfortable on his makeshift bed of grass and leaves. It wasn't as good as a foam mattress, but it was better than nothing.

The human teenager was alone when his eyes finally shut and he drifted to a dreamless sleep. When he woke, not only was he still alone, but the dragoness had also vanished without a trace. Strangely enough he found an indent the size of a small dog next to him, and his nose registered the fresh smell of Kilat's rancid breath wafting in from his sticky face. Amazing how the child maintained this one promise to him, notwithstanding his outburst.

He rose to his feet. "Kilat?" Joshua was still too tired—too sleepy to tap into his unknown Element and seek out the dragoness's life force. "Kilat?" he raised his voice. "Where are you?"

He raised his voice some more. "Where are you? Kilat!"

_F*ck, don't tell me she ran away!_ Increasingly alert, increasingly worried for her safety, Joshua Renalia felt the grogginess fade away. He ran towards the trail they saw leading to the other side of the Dry Canyon, twin emeralds scouring the distance for a golden, one-winged dragon. "KILAT!"

If she was out there, she had definitely gone beyond the range of his power.

Joshua started at once to sprint along the trail, sensing all the green Spirit Gems he could break along the way and sustain one massive sprint to the bottom of the cliff without losing any stamina.

_Wait a minute._ He stopped himself at the last minute and checked the other side of the camp, towards the river. Joshua needed to do one last check. He made his way towards the camp. "Kilat—

Thank the Lord he detected the pulse of life slowly ascending the hill. He rushed to the other trail and sent his gaze down, startling the yellow dragon right about to make that last step up the rocky path. Her cobalt eyes did not make eye contact with him, but Joshua Renalia didn't notice. He fell to his knees. "Wheeew. I thought you ran off on me," he said. "I… I was really worried."

Until now Kilat did not speak. "Look, just stay with me, all right? I **promise**, whatever happens, I won't hurt you. I'll **never** hurt you. Understand?"

The dragoness merely nodded, and the tension in the air never went away. Kilat remained subdued throughout the rest of the day, throughout the rest of the trek. Just like before, she ascended the path a few paces away ahead of the stranded teenager. However, the dragoness did not skip and hop with that familiar, bubbly spring in her step, and neither did she pepper him with questions, let alone utter a single word.

If she ever spoke, it was only to say she was tired, she was hungry, she was thirsty, she found another XP Spirit Gem within reach for them to destroy and absorb, or she acknowledged Joshua's hourly complaint about his dying legs and the need for a Mana Gem.

This cycle did not let up for two straight days. Joshua Renalia had done nothing about it, believing Kilat would come around or at least understand why he did what he did. Not until they finally camped in the Autumn Plains, where the full gamut of Warfang's eastern walls was in sight, towering high above the sky, much, much higher than a corporate skyscraper back on Earth, did the boy make his move.

Had his eyes been skyward when they arrived in the Plains, he might have known Spyro the Dragon himself was in sight. A distant, bright purple speck in the sky, dancing in the air with a black dragoness the human would recognize immediately. Instead the young man ignored the skyline visible from their overlooking hill or, when night set in, the orange flickers in the distant buildings.

Joshua reached for Kilat before she could amble away from him and his makeshift bed of grass clutched hard. "Stay," he said.

Kilat ignored him and walked on. She froze still the second he added the word "please" to his request.

She flinched—she jumped from shock when he wrapped his hands around the child and brought her closer to him. "Look, about what happened the other night… Kilat, you've got lots of energy, and I know you'd love to frolic around without worrying about anything.

Joshua hugged the dragoness. He was glad she did not struggle or stiffen. "I know you have lots of questions about the world—about my species. I'm okay with all those. But there's a limit to how much I can take, you know? Even if I **don't** usually mind it. I'm, I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm **really** sorry, but it was just too much, I was getting exasperated, and I didn't know what to do—

He stopped when he heard her mumble. "…again…"

"What?"

"Don't do that again," she said. "You scared me. I thought, I thought you were…" the child started to cry. "I thought you were gonna…"

He caressed her head. His fingers traced the curvature of her horns and ran down her back, stroking her only wing and what remained of the other. "Don't get me wrong. I **was** angry at you," Joshua confessed. "I'm only human. It's natural for—

She still did not look in his direction. "What do you mean by 'you're only hoo-man'? I don't understand…"

"Sorry, it's a saying in my culture. It means I have flaws. I have limits. It means I'm not perfect, and you shouldn't think I am. But for all the flaws I have, it doesn't mean I'm _ever_ going to hurt you, **or** abandon you."

As Joshua spoke, out of his sight a thin smile started making its way to her muzzle. Kilat began to relax, her apprehension ebbing away.

The human chuckled. "Kilat, you keep forgetting, I'm not one of those stupid apes. I **do** care about you."

A few seconds passed. Time lapsed enough to concern Joshua and he pondered if what he said was getting through to her when the dragoness slowly—finally—turned her snout towards him. "I do, don't I?" she replied, nuzzling his chest. "I… I'm sorry. This, this was the first time someone else scolded me, other than Lani, and, a-a-and, I've never seen you like that before. I _know_ you care, Joshua—it's why I stayed. But… uhm..."

Joshua understood what she struggled to convey to him here. "I get it. Don't worry about it," he acknowledged. He needed to steer this conversation somewhere else. "Kilat, didn't you have foster parents to take care of you?"

"No. Lani and I were adopted communally."

"That means nothing to me. Sorry."

"Oh. It just means everyone takes turns taking care of us. The two of us went to another family every few weeks."

He blinked. "Seriously?"

"That's how Mungo Volpe works. Everyone pitches in. Everyone does their fair share for the village. It's simple, and it's been that way for generations. Some families tried to whip me in shape before, but I _never_ had someone **really **raise their voice at me, like you. At Lani, maybe. But not me."

"He's older than you," Joshua said. "And he's more responsible over you than any of the families you stayed with. Obviously it fell on him to keep **you **in line."

Silence settled down once again, but unlike the past couple of nights, the silence no longer felt as oppressive, but rather, inviting and congenial. Joshua Renalia still paid no attention to the walls of Warfang, even the famed City of Dragons now stood a day's walk away from their campsite. He pulled his gaze up, staring at the skies above. He gazed past the twin moons, gazed at the black-lit canopy of stars above him, and—

"You still awake?" Kilat's voice yanked him away from her thoughts.

The boy grunted.

"I've been wondering…"

He dreaded another Q&amp;A session, so soon after they 'kissed and made up', figuratively speaking. "Wondering what?" he indulged her, and prepared for the worst.

But his preparations proved unnecessary, for Joshua underestimated the dragoness's maturity. "Why did you help me?"

"Kilat, I didn't want you to die—

"No," she rejoined. "That's **not** what I meant."

"Then…?"

"Why did you **want** to help us? Explodon. Lani. Me. Why **us**? We're dragons. _You_ look like an ape. We would've attacked you first no matter what you did."

Joshua shifted in his spot and looked down at the dragoness. The child rested her jaw on his chest, and under the moonlight, he could see her staring right at him, with her curious, cobalt eyes. It revealed her desire to know, and a mere glance was enough to inform the teen how much thought she had put into this. Was this another reason behind her silence?

.

.

He was too embarrassed to say it. "It's a stupid reason."

"What is it?" she said. "Can you tell me?"

He groaned. He had hoped it didn't come to this. "Promise me you won't laugh."

Kilat licked his face. "Promise."

_Yuck._ He almost forgot about that. "And promise me you won't clean my face tonight."

She licked his face **again**, a little slower this time. Deliberately. "I have your neck!"

_The f*ck is with her strange phrases? One day I'm going to ask her about these…_

"But you'll have to make up for it in the morning" she went on. "Dirty snouts lead to nasty problems beyond any doubts, mom once said. Deal?"

Joshua cocked an eyebrow at that. How broad! It covered everything from dental issues to social rejection. Some mother, he thought. A shame she's long dead.

Reluctantly, "…Deal."

"So what is it?" Kilat shook from anticipation. Her talons clutched his shirt tight, ripping another small hole in the fabric.

"It's, uhm…"

It sounded so childish, and for a teenager like him to admit that, Joshua truly thought so. None of his friends in high school shared the same interest. "Err…"

"Yes? Yes?" she pressured him. "C'mon!"

"…I like dragons."

She blinked, out of surprise. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"You, _like_ dragons."

"That's what I just said."

Her muzzle held a bewildered mien. "And that's enough for you to want to _risk your life_ and help us—help **me **back there?"

Joshua grimaced. The light from the dying campfire couldn't possibly reveal the blush forming on his cheeks, but he still turned away out of embarrassment. Ahh, old cultural habits die hard. "See, it's stupid, right?"

The child almost broke into laughter, suppressing it at the last second. It came out as a snort. "It definitely is. But you don't see me complaining about it!" _For obvious reasons_, she probably added in her head. "What do hoo-mans think of dragons, anyway?"

"Depends on who you ask. Some people think you're all evil, dangerous, and greedy. Some people hold you all in high regard, wise beyond all measure, and should be sought out for advice on anything. And again, it's _human_."

"What do _you_ think?"

He shrugged. "I never cared," he said. "Where I come from, dragons don't exist. They're considered _mythical_. No such thing. So, I never believed in either one."

Kilat mused. "No dragons in your part of the world, huh? Huh, I wonder why everyone calls this the 'Dragon Realms' then?"

"I don't know."

The dragoness surprisingly did not ADHD off into this other question and kept going. "So what do you think _now_?" she asked. "Of dragons?"

Joshua regarded her. It was a loaded question. It didn't take much for him to figure out how curious Kilat was if she had changed any of his perceptions about dragons. Joshua knew for a fact the child did, but by how much, he didn't know yet. She was the only one he knew and the former gamer wasn't keen on being biased about it. "Sorry, but you'll have to let me think on it first; I **do **have something to ask you though."

"Awwww! Can't you answer that one fiiiirst?"

"Not unless you want a half-assed answer."

She huffed. "Pfffft. _Fine_." And with a dull voice, "What's your question?"

"I've been wondering about this too, but…" the teenager cocked his head towards the gargantuan walled city in the distance. "We're almost at Warfang. Just another day or two and we're there! How do you feel about that? Are you excited?"

Kilat conveyed her feelings perfectly when she yawned in front of his face and assaulted him with that foul combination of Clorox and halitosis. "I **was**, but after Lani, Explodon, Rockclaw, and Glacia died, it doesn't feel so important anymore. Like there's no point to it." She sighed. "I don't even know if I'll find **anything** about my family in there."

Joshua Renalia responded by tightening his embrace. The child did not show any signs of discomfort. In fact, she seemed to relish the attention. "What about you?" the Electric dragoness asked. "Are _you_ excited?

"Scared, actually."

She gave him a look. "Scared, why?"

"You said it yourself. I look like an Ape, and the Apes were the ones who carried out Malefor's will long before the Orcs and Grublins came in. I don't know if the residents are going to _flip_ seeing me at the gates." He shivered at the thought. "I'm even more scared of meeting the Guardians. They're bound to be more careful, after Ignitus had kinda fallen four years ago, even though... well, that's pretty much it."

Joshua regretted saying Ignitus' name as soon as it flew out. He caught himself right before he gave Kilat one massive spoiler for the dragons here, _especially _for certain… related parties. He did not know if Spyro was supposed to know his surrogate father still lived, **literally** watching him from afar. But he _did _know the Electric dragoness using him as a pillow had one flappy mouth he'd **never** trust with something so sensitive.

Thank God she didn't catch his trailing voice. "Who's Ignitus?"

"The previous Fire Guardian," Joshua retorted curtly. "He died protecting the Purple Dragon when he entered the Burning Lands through the Belt of Fire to directly confront the Dark Master."

"Oh."

Oh, indeed. Joshua Renalia also felt apprehensive at the prospect of meeting his heroes in the scales for the first time. Certainly Spyro and Cynder were his heroes. Beloved characters of the _Spyro _fandom. But after how the Dragon Realms nearly killed him, how often reality enjoyed showing how unreliable—how _incomplete _his command over _Spyro_ lore was, he did not want to come into this with preconceived expectations.

Would Spyro attack him on sight, too? Or would he be more like himself in _A New Beginning_ and _The Eternal Night_, a kindhearted dragon who saw the best in others and wanted to help others for its own sake?

"I also don't know," Joshua added, knowing Kilat would appreciate the transparency he's showing to her, "if the Guardians can find a solution to my problem and help me go home."

"Go _hoooome_?" the dragoness whined, incredulous. "But we just met! You can't leave so soon. Won't you just stay with me?"

He replied, "Of course I will! But this is just for future reference. I _don't_ plan on staying in Warfang forever, you know. My family must be worried sick about me. They don't even know I'm here!" He choked. "They might even think I'm dead…"

"I… I understand…" Her next words were soft. "You, think I can come with you and meet them? Your family? Will they like me?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there—

"Huh?"

Joshua sighed. He'd have to start getting used to the strange phrases and idioms here in this place if he had any hopes of making any friends other than Spyro, Cynder, or Sparx. "I mean, we'll worry about that when it comes. I don't expect to find a way back home just one week after getting there. It's not realistic.

He suppressed a yawn. Joshua didn't want to expose the dragoness to _his_ bad breath now. He had to teach her by example. "What I **am** expecting, though, is maybe I can _finally_ get some help figuring out my Element. I know _for sure_ I'll make giant leaps and bounds with Volteer's help."

The human cut off Kilat as she opened her maw to speak. "That's the Electric Guardian, if you were going to ask. He'll probably be the one teaching you about _your_ Element." If he did get around to it, that was. "He's one of the most curious and science-minded dragons in the Temple, but it's _shameful_ how he has this tendency to **annoy everyone** with the way he never shuts up."

"Sort of like me?"

He laughed. "**Worse** than you! You'll see when you meet him."

Kilat hummed. "If he can help me master Electricity, I'll manage. Because one day, when I'm much better with it, **you and I** are going to start making all the amazing things your species can make."

"It'll be very hard, Kilat. I know what most of them do, but I don't know _how_ they work."

She winked. "Yup, I know that. You've told me many times." The dragoness yawned again. Her voice slowed down, and even as she grew sluggish, Kilat still had enough energy to snuggle up against Joshua's body. "But if we pull it off… I know for sure, you'll be very hap… py…"

Out like a light.

Joshua yawned like she did, but unlike her, he stayed awake, pondering. Ruminating.

Happy, she said.

Would it really? If he was truly stranded here in the Dragon Realms, destined to live here for a long—a **very long** time before he finally found a way home, would something that _reminded_ him of home, of the time he lost, of the time he spent away from his family, from his life on Earth… would that make him happy?

Joshua hugged the young Kilat like a boy would a puppy, or a plush doll. A warm, scaly, and leathery doll. The teenager brought his green eyes to the night sky once more. Where was Earth among the stars? He pondered. Was he still in the Milky Way galaxy? Or was he in a different universe altogether? How was the family doing without him? What about his girlfriend? His buddies in class 2G?

After spending a few days trying to survive in a video game world, the appeal didn't seem as strong as it used to be. Sure, he was still excited to meet Spyro and Cynder. In fact, the gamer in him was all up for it. But befriending other dragons? Other races? For some reason, he couldn't find the excitement anymore, no matter how much he tried to instigate it or tell himself how lucky he was to even be here.

Good Lord, if Joshua's younger brother was here, if he knew his thoughts right at this moment, he would be **livid**. He loved the _Spyro_ series as much as the teenager did (to the chagrin of his mother, ha!), and Joshua knew without a doubt the kid would never want to go home again. He would be like Peter Pan, refusing to grow up and accept responsibility for as long as he could.

But the Dragon Realms never operated like Never Land. The Dragon Realms… was as real as Earth was, and it terrified Joshua Renalia. It scared him so much. It made him realize what was important in his life back home. There was no escaping responsibility. There was no escape from it.

It would be too cruel of the Lord Almighty if this turned out to be a one-way ticket. The mere idea forced a single tear out of his eye. "I miss you guys," Joshua professed. "I… I don't know why, or how, I'm in the Dragon Realms, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there. I'll find my way home. I promise." He looked at the sleeping dragon on top of him... and couldn't resist kissing her forehead. A small smile formed on the little girl's muzzle and unconsciously she nuzzled his hands. "But I'm not leaving you alone either, Kilat. I'll think of something. You all have my word."

Were they all looking for him? Or have they given up already, and left him for dead?

These thoughts scared him the most. They never left Joshua Renalia as he slipped away into deep, comfortable slumber.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Originally, this chapter was supposed to be full of bonding and world-building.

Joshua was supposed to talk in detail about some more human technology here, and originally, he never got frustrated with her and entertained her questioning as much as she could. Kilat would always shift to a different conversation when he could no longer answer, stopping only when she herself was satiated or was distracted by something else. The scene with first camp was supposed to be Joshua's (and the readers') first exposure to Aldozira, the City of Apes. The outline even had a small little scene detailing their ascent up the Dry Canyon.

Unfortunately, a lot of changes had to be made because I **am** on a tight schedule here, and I **did** say I was going to end the "Wilderness" arc in this chapter. So, there goes Joshua yelling at her and Kilat not knowing how to respond to this new experience—I needed these for a time skip, but it also worked in some more bonding between the two anyway.

I'll find a way to put in the other things I wanted to throw in here eventually.

Either way, this chapter finally concludes the "Survival" arc and officially kicks the story off into the "Gates of Warfang" arc, where Joshua and Kilat finally arrive at the Gates and, of course, meet our favorite purple dragon, his mate we all came to love as fans, and one annoying dragonfly. :P I'm looking forward to writing that, but for now, I will be going on a hiatus 'til mid-June to study for an exam. This story has been distracting me for far, far too long.

Of course, unlike most human-turned-dragon and humans-in-the-dragon-realms stories, Joshua lived a decent, good life before he found himself in the Dragon Realms. No angsty, teenage problems. No bullying issues. No girlfriend issues. No parental issues. It's completely normal, and I am surprised at how much that one change truly affects how the character views his situation, being stuck in a foreign world. A video game world, but a foreign world nonetheless.


	11. Stereotypes

**Chapter 11: Stereotypes  
**

* * *

"_Hockey is a sport for white men. Basketball is a sport for black men. Golf is a sport for white men dressed like black pimps."_

\- Tiger Woods

* * *

In his old life, Joshua Renalia was not one to frequent online forums. He rarely directed any time to immersing himself in the lore of a video game. He didn't want to get caught up in arguing useless arguments with nerds worth none of his time, and he often always had more important things to keep up with.

His grades, for one.

His girlfriend, for two.

His friends in high school, for three.

There were also the video games that demanded to be played, that he **had** to pick up and hit the pavement with until he saw the credits roll across his television screen.

_Spyro the Dragon_ was one of the few—the **very **few—exceptions to this rule. Joshua honestly couldn't understand why his mind refused to let go of the game. He was no more a fan of the _Classic_ trilogy than he was a fan of the _Legend_ trilogy, and had played the first installment in the _Classic_ series enough until he beat it 120%. He picked up the _Ripto's Rage_ and _Year of the Dragon_ titles within weeks of their release. He slogged through every title that came out after Insomniac Games relinquished the purple dragon to reach new heights in the gaming industry. He was sad to see _A Hero's Tail_ come and go, paving the way for the _Legend _trilogy and went stark mad the moment he booted up _Dawn of the Dragon_.

And who wouldn't, when the graphics suddenly shifted from cartoonish and childishly colorful to a much more realistic slant? He popped the game's CD into the PlayStation 2, skeptical of any photorealistic display Activision had put on its case. To his delight, Spyro the Dragon almost literally sprung to life before his eyes. Suddenly, the Dragon Realms became a land to explore, to travel as far as the video game would let him. He loved the way Spyro and Cynder flapped their wings to fly, the way every move they made mimicked the quadrupeds back in the real world, or even the way the colors of their bodies interacted with the environment around them.

He was drawn in, lured to browsing various forums on the Internet, to absorbing every useless bit of information about the _Spyro_ series in his free time.

One such trivia had to do with Warfang, the City of Dragons.

Someone pointed out Warfang looked too much like Minas Tirith from _The Lord of the Rings_. There were almost one too many disgruntled gamers on GameFAQs ripping Etranges Libellules a new one for blatantly copying this particular battle from the _Return of the King_, all the way from the white, towering walls of rock, their solid fortifications, the city's medieval halls, and the massive spur in the middle—a summit upon which the leadership and the civilian elite called home—up to the way the siege played out in-game, including the towers trying to capture the ramparts as well as the hordes of monsters forcing their way through the city gates.

No wonder Activision pulled enough strings to cast Elijah Wood as Spyro. He already played Frodo Baggins in Peter Jackson's movies. Might as well add a little familiarity to the game, right? Nudge, nudge, wink wink.

But of course, pictures never did anything grand justice.

And in Warfang's case, Activision's _The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon _failed to do just that for this massive commune.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ."

His jaw trying to make love with the well-worn path, Joshua Renalia gawked at the massive city. He was in awe. None of the knowledge he gained from the hard work of Etranges Libellules' game designers and the teenager's own little fascination with the _Spyro the Dragon _franchise prepared him for the overwhelming stupor of seeing the City of Dragons in real life.

Up close, the walls of Warfang stretched far higher than the Horseshoe Bend in Arizona. It rose nearly a mile, from Joshua's best estimates. The gates were so much larger than what he remembered from the point he moved Spyro and Cynder down from the walls to dispatch a troll that had managed to push through into the city and to keep the gates shut. More than three times the height and three times the width. _Much_ more_. _He could even glimpse the depth of the tunnel leading into the city. It was long, perhaps as long as the main entrance to Beijing's Forbidden City or even longer.

On its lonesome in the midst of a colossal prairie, with an equally mammoth wasteland to the right and gigantic cliffs to the left (from Joshua's point of view, of course), the City of Dragons was as an island. A shining beacon of hope and progress in the middle of this continent. The teenager did not know how large was the land mass containing the known reaches of the Dragon Realms, Kilat's homeland, and beyond, but surely this was the Dragon Realms' equivalent of the United States of America.

Powerful.

Stalwart.

And _civilized_.

Joshua shook his head from disbelief. What his eyes just saw made the people who spent hours designing the video game—spent days creating every pixel of Warfang look like unimaginative, lazyass chumps.

He glimpsed the tiny figures patrolling the ramparts; he saw the gilded glint of the cannons that deterred the invaders after Spyro and Cynder flew in from the west four years ago. Knowing about it was one thing, but seeing it all for himself was another.

"By the Ancestors…"

Joshua Renalia looked at the dragon child a few paces ahead of him. Kilat walked with her eyes in a daze, those cobalt orbs dilated as much as possible, glued to the dazzling spectacle of the dragons' very own 'White City'. The Electric dragoness's small, tiny steps almost tapered to a complete halt. He didn't need to see her muzzle to know she had the same exact reaction as he did. Another gasp of awe came out of her.

He smiled. "Breathtaking, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

"And we're going straight through that gate over there."

"We are?" She looked back at Joshua. Her eyes went up and down. "Like _that_?"

Joshua rolled his eyes. "You just looked at **all** of me."

"Joshua, you **know** they'll think you're an Ape." She turned away from the bedazzling sight in front of her and ambled to the human. "The, t-th-they'll split us up or—or, or, or, they might just hurt you!" Kilat nuzzled his legs. "Isn't there… isn't there _some way_ we can sneak in?"

The teenager suppressed the urge to sigh.

Her concerns weren't exactly new. Joshua struggled with this whole profiling problem since he woke up. His indecision began from the very moment the golden dragoness nudged him awake and made this morning one of the most memorable he's had in the Dragon Realms by blessing him with an "extra special bath". She had the poor human take off his shirt and, to his utter revulsion, afterwards showered every part of his body from the waist up with much more than 60 sweeps of the tongue to make up for falling asleep dry last night. Fifteen minutes of _hell_.

Unlike the past several times, Joshua Renalia did not bother with the usual protests and silly flailing that marked the beginning and conclusion of every day. This morning, the young man did not need to put in so much effort in ignoring either the vile sliminess covering his bare skin or the nauseating odor of Kilat's saliva drifting from his face, his neck, his arms, and his torso, because thoughts of entering Warfang consumed him.

Should he stealthily infiltrate the city, keep a low profile, and find a way to meet his heroes? It shouldn't be that difficult finding the secret tunnel leading directly into the heart of Warfang. Certainly, it'd extend the trek by another several days. Just _looking_ at the sheer size of those humongous walls led Joshua to think another **week** would be required simply to circumnavigate the perimeter to the side facing the Valley of Avalar.

Or…

Should he instead waltz through the front doors, screaming for the guards to look at the one and only human being they would ever see in their entire lives and let him inside their city? It was the quickest and fastest way, no doubt, but how dangerous would it be for him?

Both options had their pros and cons.

Sneaking in meant he'd have to live in Warfang as a vagabond. Until he found the opportunity to meet the Guardians and his heroes, he would need to constantly watch his back for any guards and stand vigilant for the scenario any wandering citizen could easily tag him as an Ape, one who's snuck into the city with a nefarious scheme to enact. On the other hand, by coming in conspicuously through the Eastern Gate, he would theoretically spare himself all this stress but it came at the cost of possibly dying before he could even set foot in the city.

Short-term risk for long-term gain? Or short-term gain for long-term risk?

Neither one appealed to Joshua much.

If it was just him, he figured he could survive in the city on the first option alone, and for several weeks on end. The passive abilities of his unique Element would certainly help. Tremendously.

But Joshua was not alone. He had to keep an eye out for Kilat, even if it meant relinquishing something at his own expense. He did not want her to starve, to be more deprived of things than she already was. The welfare of this dragon child made all the difference to him.

Twin emeralds gazed down at the dragon child rubbing her body on his legs. _Awww, just like a cat. _He reached down and stroked her cute head. "Kilat, I need to do this. Yes, there **is** a way we can bypass all the guards—I know **exactly** where it is—but if we just sneak in, we could get into _more_ hot water than we can handle. Well, **I** would."

"'Hot water'?" Oh, it's that look again. He hated that look. It came out every time he said something that didn't mesh well with her slang. Seeing Kilat's wonderful blue eyes scrunch and her muzzle contort from consternation gave him the impression she thought he had shit for brains… every time.

"I mean, it's bound to be more trouble than it's worth. You understand?"

She nodded vigorously. A habit she picked up from him, somehow, sometime.

"It's better this way," he said. "I won't have to worry much about you, and the people inside will already know about me."

"And they'll know you're hoo-man?"

"More often than not, I hope." Joshua smiled at her.

Kilat glared at the human, not expecting an honest response. For someone who didn't like worrying and preferred to stay as a child, the dragoness certainly did her fair share of it when it came to him. Still, she relented seconds later, "You _better_ know what you're doing." The child paced ahead. "I, I'd hate to lose you…"

Joshua sent a forlorn gaze at her back. _And I'd hate to see you suffer more because of me…_

Before another hour lapsed, the hills of the Autumn Plains leveled out. Trees and shrubs became few and far between, and in their place were large tracts of country. Joshua and Kilat found a dirt road sweeping through the agricultural real estate. He couldn't help but notice the abundance of Spirit Gems uncontrollably growing along the path, despite their ostensible absence within the farmlands.

Joshua glimpsed a few bipedal llamas hauling sets of disc harrows on their backs, pulling it along the surface of the fertile soil. At the closest one he waved his hand and smiled. The llama—the _atlawa_, he remembered—responded with an uncertain expression at first, until Kilat noticed the nonverbal exchange between the two of them. She went between both of them, gave him a wide, toothy grin, and waved back with her only wing. If the atlawa farmer still had misgivings seeing a furless ape walk so close to the City of Dragons, it was no longer present in the smile he rewarded the dragoness's greeting with.

"Who knew Warfang recovered so fast in just four years?" commented Joshua as he stared at the handful of stone windmills scattered across the countryside.

"Joshua!" Kilat hollered at him. "Look, look! What're those things? What do they do? Do you know?"

"They're called windmills. I don't see any rivers here, sooooo I think they're used to water the farms."

"So beautiful!" she remarked.

Kilat trotted further ahead. Her muzzle turned towards every windmill in sight, in awe at the vanes revolving around the center axes. She didn't have that wherever she's from, Joshua mused. He had never seen Kilat this excited in the few days he's known her. Happiness welled inside the human as he watched the rambunctious little girl act her age.

Moles scurried around the farmlands. Quite a few tended to the windmills, conducting quality checks and testing for structural integrity, like the engineers they probably were. Others roamed the agricultural properties, holding a blade and a large backpack that appeared too comical for their size. Joshua watched these walk along the harrowed soil, stop every so often, slash their weapons at something—oh, it was a _crystal_!—and stash it into the pack. That revealed why the soil didn't have any Spirit Gems growing all over it.

Had Joshua Renalia been a few years older, with an undergraduate degree in the works, he might have appreciated seeing one of the major foundations of Warfang's economy at its infancy. He might have looked at this moment as a good exercise in critical thinking and figure out how the City of Dragons would evolve from this point forward. He would rope Kilat into this, just to teach her a few things about the way a city works from the macroscopic level.

Rather than appreciating the simple lifestyle of these people, Joshua noticed the dirt road had widened slightly. More people ambled along the path, all of them heading to God knew where to do God knew what. Joshua's eyes began wandering, not unlike Kilat's. Rather than capturing the amazing sights, sounds, and smells of an authentic, medieval fantasy, his viridian gaze captured instead the terrible glares being sent his way. Even his Unknown Element refused the human any solace, always keen on telling him when the pulses of life passing by wavered between two different colors, rippled from agitated emotions, or even tightened into a ball of cold, glacial hostility.

Joshua Renalia wished he had a bag with him when he woke up in the Dragon Realms. This would've been the perfect time to grab some of the HP and Mana Spirit Gems growing all around the dirt road like unsightly weeds. After all, if he ever got into trouble with these people, the last thing they'd expect was someone they considered an ape tapping into the gifts of the Ancestors… just like a dragon.

The teenager passed by two manweersmalls heading back to the city, pushing wooden carts filled to the brim with Spirit Gems of all three colors. He walked around them, fully aware of the counterflow giving him a widening berth in addition to the intimidating glowers the closer he approached the Eastern Gate. But Joshua forgot the implications this reflected on Warfang's economy when he realized Kilat was no longer in sight.

"Kilat!" he called. "Where are you?" His voice and the coherence of his words surprised many of the people around him. Some even held dumbfounded miens on their snouts, but Joshua Renalia did not pay them any attention. "Kilat! Say something if you can hear me!"

Eyes flickered among the feet of the crowd. There were so many people now. Their businesses took them out of the massive commune or perhaps, they were headed home after a good day's work under one of the many agricultural entrepreneurs operating beyond Warfang's walls.

Where was she? She was such a small dragon! Kilat risked being trampled or stepped on by an unwary commuter, or worse, being taken away from him by some authority figure, and they'd never see each other again. Joshua worried for the dragoness, and hoped—

"Joshua!" the child called out, to his relief. "Joshua! Over here!"

Where? Where was she? He heard her voice but where exactly was she? He couldn't see a preadolescent dragoness scooting between the furry legs. He couldn't see. He couldn't find any sign of—

And there she was at the distance, standing at the side of the road almost a hundred meters ahead with a pile of depleted Spirit Gems next to her. As they disintegrated into dust, Joshua watched her smile her favorite smile and beckoned him with a wave of her right wing. "OVER HERE! Can you see me now?"

"Yeah!" he jogged to her position. "Give me a quick second, 'kay? Just _stay_ there."

He swerved and twisted and turned around every person obstructing his path. Being 5-foot 2 the teenager didn't share Kilat's luxury of whizzing through someone's legs. Thankfully he was somewhat agile despite his sedentary lifestyle as an avid gamer, and with his improved stamina Joshua did not find himself panting, gasping for air when he finally stopped in front of her.

"Whew," he exhaled. "You went faaaaaar. I thought I lost you!"

"Me too, me too!" she jumped. "I kept on seeing so many amazing things I just kept going ahead. I walked, walked, and walked, and next thing I knew, I found this biiiiiig pile of those 'expee' Spirit Gems you like to hit." The child grinned. "And when I looked for you, you were **gone**."

Joshua fell to one knee and gave her muzzle a tender pinch. "I'm so glad you decided to stay in one place, Kilat. Where I come from, children just go wherever they want to and get lost even more."

"Kid hoo-mans don't know how to take care of themselves, do they?"

"In the United States, maybe, but not in my coun—in my land." The last thing Joshua needed was another useless discussion about the difference between a land and a country.

She beamed. "Good thing I know how to take care of myself, huh?"

The human chuckled as he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "A _very_ good thing." Joshua cupped the dragoness' golden underbelly. Fully comfortable with him, she no longer flinched at his touch, and he smiled at the way she trusted him with her life and well-being. "But I have to start carrying you now," he added. "There're way too many people here, and I don't want us getting separated again." _Plus I'm starting to feel like I'm in a zoo._

"Okie dokie!" Kilat gabbled. She did not struggle while Joshua lifted her up from the ground. Once he brought the dragoness to his arms in a belly hold, she cuddled up against the nook of his right elbow and droned happily, like a whining dog. "C'mon, let's go! I wanna see Warfang!"

"Hold your horses, little girl," the human mumbled. "I'm making sure I don't let you go by accident."

"What's a horse?" Her tail swished in the air and curled around his left arm. "Ehhhhh, never mind. Hurry up!"

"Okay, okay!"

Confident in his grip, Joshua returned to the road and pushed ahead, knowing his time in the wilderness had improved his strength to the point he could comfortably carry the Electric dragoness for longer periods of time despite her weight, without relying on the Spirit Gems to alleviate his aching muscles. He passed by a pair of cheetahs, clad in traveling robes and leather armor, walking away from the city with packs strapped to their backs.

If it wasn't for the relief coursing through him, for the newfound confidence at entering Warfang, Joshua would have easily noticed one of the cheetahs' life signatures compress and ripple. That did not stop those human ears from catching his disdainful words. "Was that an _ape_ that just went past us?"

"Whatever he is, he resembles one," replied the other cheetah.

Joshua shuddered at the response that came next. "I should kill him before he gets inside the city." His heart stopped when he heard an arrow sliding out of its quiver.

He almost turned back to look at them when he heard a bowstring being pulled, but the second cried out, "No! I'm sure he's not what you think he is." A pause. "Apes _hate_ dragons. Did you not see how friendly he was with that small one? The little girl even nuzzled him."

"Impossible," muttered the first. "He looks so much like one, just without all that ugly hair."

"Paddock, let it go. He means no harm. We are drawing unnecessary attention. Besides, we need to reach the Dry Canyon by dawn tomorrow."

"You're right, Hunter. Chief Prowlus wouldn't want to celebrate his son's successful rite of passage without rare herbs and meat."

Joshua turned back as soon as he heard it. He stared back at the two figures. They retreated into the bustling crowd, slipping away from sight. Even so, the human knew they were still within earshot. He could not explain how his Element allowed him to sift through the scores of life pulses surrounding him and still manage to pinpoint the two cheetahs', even Kilat's.

Good grief, he just walked by Hunter?

Hunter?

**The** Hunter from _Dawn of the Dragon_? Joshua couldn't help but freeze in place, staring in the direction of the Autumn Plains. How _didn't_ he recognize Hunter, the very same person who led Spyro, Cynder, and Sparx out of the Well of Souls at the beginning of the game? He looked just like another cheetah! He was taller than him, too—the teenage human only came up to his chest.

Joshua cogitated on the choice of turning around and approaching Hunter and Paddock while the two cheetahs were still within range of his Element's passive life detection. Hunter could very well be his ticket to entering Warfang without any sort of fanfare, could even be his best shot at landing a conversation with Spyro and the Guardians, but…

But…

How would he initiate the conversation to begin with? Hunter wouldn't believe anything he said. Why should he? From _his_ point of view, Joshua was a person of an unknown species, a person he's **never** met in his life. How would the cheetah react if the teenager came out and revealed his knowledge of Hunter's relationship with the two Saviors? With the Guardians?

Joshua knew how he'd react if he was out walking in the streets, minding his own business, and a suspicious-looking stranger in a hoodie approached him, requested for his help, while revealing intimate and specific knowledge about his family and himself. It was the closest scenario the human could imagine, and in such a situation he'd treat the person with suspicion, abscond as fast as his legs managed at first opportunity, and veer straight for the nearest police station and report a stalker with ambiguous intentions.

He gritted his teeth. Goddamn it! Did God do this to f*ck with him again? Was He laughing right now? Shit! Joshua was close—he was **so close** to getting most of his problems solved by a character from _canon_. The prospect of having an established video game character help him tempted the teenager greatly, but he knew… Joshua knew it wouldn't work the way he thought it would.

Approaching Hunter was going to be a mistake leading to hell. It might even result in his death, going by the way Paddock **immediately** assumed he was an ape and moved to kill him. Would Warfang's people respond to him this way? Would they move to kill him first and _then_ ask questions? The thought terrified him.

This was serious.

Joshua knew he didn't live in a wish-fulfillment fantasy. Nearly dying twice, failing to save Lani and Explodon, and almost losing Kilat forever proved that. Those experiences taught him to be more careful. He needed to act as if this was real life. He was not in his own little Neverland. Things ran differently in the Dragon Realms. He **must** exercise more caution or—

"Joshua?"

"Huh?" He glanced down at the dragoness perched in his arms.

Kilat ogled the human, her large eyes shimmering with concern. "Are you okay?"

He made his choice. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah," he said again. "Sorry, I thought I recognized someone back there."

As he continued his approach, the human recognized the occasional dragon plodding alongside the pedestrians on all fours. They walked with their legs underneath their bodies, like any mammalian animal. They moved confidently. The adults were **huge**. Joshua's height—5'2", something normal for a human his age—reached up to just their necks. He tried hard not to look at their jaws. They looked wide enough for his entire body to fit through, and he shivered at the idea of being swallowed whole by a dragon.

_Terrifying!_

Kilat would eventually grow into **that**? Her? This little dragon child? Damn.

He had not seen any dragons that looked as old as he was, not yet, but Joshua figured they would at least reach up to **his** neck. Explodon certainly did, but the human couldn't be too sure. Joshua saw him only from the fringes of the clearing, and for all he knew, the deceased Fire Dragon could've been one of the unusually large or small dragons. How would he know for sure, right? He knew nothing.

Two dragons walked among the crowd for every ten people plying the dirt road, whether they headed into or away from the city. They were as beacons. Large beacons of red, green, blue, or yellow, denoting their elemental affinity. Few seemed to pay a comparatively tiny Joshua Renalia any mind. A handful growled at his primate form, even muttered the three-letter word under their breaths, but if any of these gigantic reptiles felt anything hateful towards him, Kilat's presence in his arms and the way she tenderly nuzzled his neck easily silenced them.

Joshua Renalia glanced up at the Eastern Gate of Warfang when they were closer than ever. It reminded him of the Gates of Justice in the Japanese manga _One Piece_. These gilded structures were gargantuan and looked solidly strong, yet they reached only up to the first third of the ramparts. From this close, the young man caught sight of tiny figures patrolling the walls above. Soldiers. Guards.

The Guardians wanted tight security. That was understandable, when he thought about it. It's only been four years since Malefor's defeat. Remnants of his Orc and Grublin army still meandered the lands beyond the Warfang's towering walls, and the Apes proved no less hostile than they'd ever been, ungrateful despite being indirectly saved by Spyro and Cynder's efforts to stop the Dark Master. Joshua wondered how many could see him from up there. He, a human—a furless ape; and the dragon child sitting comfortably in his arms.

The answer to that question was most likely a resounding zero. By this point, the density of commuters plying the dirt road magnified dramatically, with a handful of outgoing people compared to tens and tens of incoming entrants. So many people flowed into the City of Dragons.

Joshua Renalia had no choice but to fall in line with the rest of them. "Oh my God," he muttered. What did they have over there? An immigration counter? It _definitely_ felt like one, standing here in the middle of the sun with a young dragoness bearing down in his arms.

Ten minutes passed and he **still** hasn't moved from his position. This was starting to grate him. The stares he kept receiving from the other people unnerved him, but fortunately, they did nothing else. There was no reason for them to feel wary: he did not act suspiciously, he did not act violently, and, he believed, he at least looked approachable. The human heard his stomach ache a little from hunger, and even Kilat's life signature wobbled slightly. Yet she said nothing, preferring to keep quiet and wait. A miracle, he thought, knowing how much of a chatterbox she was.

But he spoke too soon.

"Never seen that species before," a female voice spoke behind him. "I wonder what he is. Looks like a furless ape."

Kilat jumped the gun as soon as she heard that. "Hey, he's not an Ape! He's a hoo-man!"

"…A _hoo-man_?" wondered the speaker. "I've never heard of them. Where are hoo-mans from, little one?"

Damn it! Kilat _never_ knew when to quit, didn't she? For once he thought the Electric dragoness could learn to sit still and stay quiet for a bit, but noooooooo. She just couldn't resist.

Joshua wheeled around to apologize to the stranger for Kilat being a nuisance, but all the words he prepared died the instant he saw a dragoness standing right behind him. She was the size of a Great Dane, her head reaching his _chin_ on all fours. An adolescent, perhaps a little older than _Dawn of the Dragon _Spyro. "Uhhh…"

"Ooooooh, she's monotone, just like me!" uttered the other dragoness curiously, smiling down at the little girl. "Cute!" she squealed. "You don't see those every day." No kidding, Joshua thought. This one sported pure, burgundy-red skin and nothing else. Unlike every other dragon he saw in this place, she had no horns at all whatsoever. Instead she had ridiculously long ear flaps, almost reminded him of _How to Train Your Dragon_'s Toothless. He thanked God this particular dragoness had enough tact _not_ to ask about Kilat's missing left wing.

She jumped. "Oh!" Her lime-green eyes flickered towards the human. "Sorry," she said, giving Joshua a sheepish grin. "I didn't mean for that to come out. I was just wondering, that's all."

He resisted cocking an eyebrow at her presence in the line. She was a dragon. She had wings. Her life signature gave a clean bill of health. She could just... fly over the wall, couldn't she? Why would she want to go through the Gates the normal way?

_Whatever. I don't give a shit.  
_

Her reasons for suffering through this line were none of his business to begin with. "It's fine," Joshua brushed it off. "It's fine. No harm in thinking out loud. I do it sometimes, too." Then he focused on the child sitting in his arms. "Look, you can't just disturb the other people in line. It's _rude. _They can say what they want to say, but if they're not talking to you, you can't simply—

She whined, "But I'm booooooored! We've been standing here for _Ancestors_ know how long."

The teenager groaned. "Ugh. C'mon!" he vented his frustration. "It _happens_. Just suck it up and deal with it! Life doesn't swing between fun and terrible. There's going to be some shit in the middle that has to be taken care of. It isn't great, it isn't all that bad, but you got to do what you got to do, and this happens to be one of them."

Kilat pouted at him. "Mmmmmmmmm!" she growled at the adolescent gamer. "But I don't wanna!"

"I 'don't wanna' either," Joshua said, throwing her own words back at her with a derisive tone. "But this is something we got to deal with. _Together._" He smirked. "What **can** you do anyway? You can't get away from me. You'll just get yourself lost and we'll go back to squ—and we'll have to fall in line waaaay over there in the back."

Heh. _I got her now._

"You want to know what I can do?" Kilat challenged him.

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

A moment passed. Then Kilat scrambled from his arms. She placed her paws on his shoulders and began licking Joshua in the face rapidly.

"GAH!" Joshua shoved Kilat's snout away and wiped the saliva off his nose. "Argh." He spat on the side of the road. "Pth! Oh hell! What was that for? I thought we were only going to do this **twice a day**!"

She rebutted with a mischievous smirk. "Nuh uh. I only promised to _clean you up_, day and night! I could still do something like this for fun. 'Cause I just _like_ the way you lose your scales." Kilat teased.

Joshua retorte—actually, he couldn't come up with anything in reply. She had beaten him on a technicality and she knew it. "I hate you," he grumbled.

"And I _love_ you!" rebutted the young child, nuzzling his cheek.

Joshua leered. He turned his head, seized Kilat's ram horns so she couldn't move, and blew a raspberry on her snout.

She squirmed. "Hey! That tickles!"

"Serves you right!" the teenager chortled, stroking the dragon's shoulder.

"You two are so _adorable_!" The burgundy dragoness gushed. "You know, if you weren't different species, I'd think you're brother and sister."

"You think so, huh?"

"Yes!" She suddenly switched subjects. "And hey, this is your first time in Warfang, right?"

"It i—

"Oh, sorry! You're a hoo-man. New species." She chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "Silly me. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine. It's not 'hoo-man', by the way. It's _human_. She just can't say it right."

"Human. Got it."

Before Joshua extolled her for being able to say his species name _properly_, the burgundy dragoness stretched her neck and sent her gazed further down the line. Then she turned and did the same for the other side. The teenager noticed she had orange fins from the top of her head to the end of her tail. These fins ran along her spine.

_Definitely resembles Toothless, all right. Just much smaller, and a lot more red.  
_

"You're wondering why the lines are so long?" she asked.

"Right. I am."

"See, these days, with the Dark Master gone thanks to the Purple Dragon, we're in an era of peace. The war is **over**. Word's been spreading out very far beyond Warfang's borders, into distant lands. So the city's seeing the biggest influx of immigrants it's ever had in the past few years." She bit into the strap of a satchel dangling down the side of her body and hefted it up a little. Joshua noted it carried dragon fruit and some gorgeous flowers he recognized from the Autumn Plains.

"Really?" Kilat piped up. "That's _exactly _why we're here! How long have **you** been living in Warfang?"

"About a couple years now," she replied. "Real estate's in high demand lately, I've heard… whatever that is. I don't need to care, praise the Ancestors. I have my own room in the Warfang Temple. It's not much, but it's a bed I can sleep in and at least I'm away from the other dragons—

"You live in the Temple?" the little girl babbled before Joshua could ask her about it. She turned away from the human, her tail smacking into his cheek.

_Oh no, not again…_

"Yes. I'm—

"Ooooh! What do you do there? Do you see the Guardians regularly? Have you met the Purple Dragon yet? What's it like living there? Are you the only—

"Kilat, that's **enough**."

Kilat shut her muzzle as soon as he demanded the dragon child to stay quiet. He glanced at the older dragoness. Joshua couldn't exactly discern it on her burgundy muzzle, but she seemed overwhelmed from the younger dragon's battery of questions. Her life pulse quivered, and it felt as though it was thawing… recovering, he preferred to think_. _And this was just the first round!

"Oops," she muttered. "Did I do it again?"

Joshua answered, "Yes, you did." He turned to the adolescent reptile before him. "Sorry about that. She's… she's extremely inquisitive about a **lot** of things, and it's difficult, getting her to shut her mouth without yelling at her. Thinking about putting her in front of Volteer scares me a little."

She cackled at the sound of Volteer's name. "Haha! You said it! Makes me glad I'm **not** an Electric dragon. Hmmm, I'm surprised you know about the Guardians."

Time to start spinning the wide web of lies around his true origins. "It isn't much, but their reputation precedes them," he explained. "They're well-known. I don't need to be a dragon to know a few things about them."

"That's true," she agreed, taking in his words at face value. She peeked towards the Gates. "Oh, that is where we split." She raised a paw and pointed it at a bifurcation in the line, where it divided into a shorter and a longer lane of people of various species. The former went into the humongous tunnel separating the city proper from the farmland, while the latter diverted to a booth next to it before heading into the tunnel. "The shorter one's for known residents only. The rest goes through the longer line. Tell the guards what you're here for. They'll help you with the paperwork so you're in the council's records. You won't need an ID—that's why the moles are there. They remember _everything_! And, uh, are you moving in or just visiting?"

He wanted to say 'just visiting', but he knew real life did not do things as easily as he wanted. It never did. "Moving in."

"In that case, you'll be given sleeping quarters. It's right by the other side. You're going to stay there until you are interviewed directly by the Warfang Council **and** the Guardians. You're free to go anywhere in the city once you're approved."

"What about her?" he asked, gesturing towards Kilat.

"She'll be fine! They'll want to hear her story, but dragons are approved by default anyway. There aren't a lot of us in the Realms, not after what the Dark Master and his army of apes did."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," he acknowledged. "That's good to hear. Glad to know she's going to be all right."

"She's lucky she has you."

Kilat chose the perfect time to contribute. "And _he's_ lucky he has me!"

They finally reached the point of bifurcation. The burgundy dragoness looked both of them over. She gave Joshua a sincere smile. "Good luck getting in. I hope you do."

"I'll need it, miss," he replied. "Thank you for all the help."

She turned to the dragon child in his arms. She brought her red muzzle closer to Joshua—a little too close for comfort, actually, but she didn't need to know this—and nuzzled the Electric dragoness. "And it's nice meeting you, little one. I'll see you around sometime."

"Nice meeting you, too, red lady!" Kilat waved goodbye with her right wing as she walked away to join the other line. "See you later!"

Joshua felt his confidence rise at the way his talk with the Toothless lookalike turned out. He successfully held a conversation with another dragoness—a complete stranger, wouldn't you believe it?—and it concluded without a hitch. She did not discriminate. She did not treat him any more differently than she probably would have with another person actually from the Dragon Realms.

Maybe Paddock's reaction earlier was a one-time thing. Maybe all those people stared at him out of curiosity, just like the older dragon. Maybe they weren't hostile at all. He was going to be okay, he thought, ambling to the counter with Kilat perched contentedly in his arms. He hadn't encountered any problems since the burgundy dragoness left them. Only a few minutes of paper-pushing stood between him and a nice, long discussion with the Guardians.

Truly, it appeared all of his worries were for nothing—

A pair of spears crisscrossed each other, barring Joshua Renalia from proceeding. Two moles fully clad in what looked like a samurai's armor remained steadfast in front of the young man. The blades gleamed threateningly under the sun.

"W, w-wha, w-what…?"

"We apologize," remarked one of the moles, "But Warfang will only accept your companion. You are not permitted to enter the City of Dragons."

"What are you talking about?" Joshua questioned. "I waited in line here like everyone else. I'm going here because the war is over—because Malefor's dead! Isn't that why everyone's trying to move in here? This isn't fair!"

"We are sorry."

"Bullshit!" Joshua tried to walk around them, but the moles simply shuffled once and obstructed his path. "This isn't fair, damn it! Just let me through already!"

Kilat defended him. "Yeah, this is wrong! He's done nothing. Please, let him in. He just wants to talk to the Guardians."

All of Kilat's protests drowned beneath the heavy footfalls approaching from the left. A booming growl swept the air, and Joshua Renalia turned to discover a fully-grown Ice Dragon covered in armor, glowering at him ominously. He bared his fangs. "Your kind is not welcome here, **Ape**. Go away or I will strike you down and devour your flesh."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

I know I said last chapter that I was going to go on a four-week hiatus, but something happened at work yesterday and I was so frustrated, so pissed off, and so depressed (?) that I needed to channel my emotions into something before I go crazy over it.

Anyway, this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected (nearly 6600 words), but I had to do some world-building here and there, to explore what Warfang's economy would be like after the war, and even how the surrounding people would act once they've heard the war is over. As for how the City of Dragons looks, I intended it to be similar yet vastly different compared to what we've seen in _Dawn of the Dragon_. This is because our expectations often cloud reality. Just because we saw something in a photograph, in a video, or in anecdotes, doesn't mean that's how it'll be when we come face to face with something in person.

Moreover, this chapter marks the beginning of problems for Joshua, as he discovers similarities between the people of Warfang and modern human society. Some are friendly, some are neutral, and some are outright hostile to people who are "different". These also explain his decision not to approach Hunter. Joshua knows him from the video game, but who in their right mind would approach someone they only knew by watching them through a TV screen? It doesn't matter if it's Hunter. What if it's Spyro? Or Cynder? Or Sparx? Or anyone in canon?

One of the most grating mistakes most HTD and Human-in-the-Dragon-Realms writers make is to assume the canon characters will accept their human or human-turned-dragon characters at face value, or at least _will_ _trust them_ at face value, when we know they are unlikely to do that if we inject a dose of reality into the situation from _their_ points of view. And in the _Legend_ verse, these doubts may very well be _magnified_ if the human, well, stayed human.

Speaking of which, some of you may be wondering if I'm going to turn Joshua into a dragon at some point in the story. The answer is no. **Never**. It goes against the reasons I started _Aimless_ in the first place, and it doesn't do anything to accomplish the objectives I've set out for it.

Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter. ^_^

Oh, and before I forget, if you need a visual reference for how Joshua would stand with respect to the dragons... look up "Spyro - Dawn of the Dragon" by xNIROx on deviantart. S/he got it from somewhere, but it's useful.

Joshua may be 5'2". It's small for an adult human, but he's not that old. He's in his mid-teens and has yet to experience most of his growth spurts, so he's roughly as tall as Hunter's chest. In turn, _Dawn of the Dragon _Spyro and Cynder reach up to his neck. An adult human would more or less be as tall as Hunter, so that's something good to know, right? :D


	12. Contagion

**Chapter 12: Contagion**

* * *

"_Fear and euphoria are dominant forces, and fear is many multiples the size of euphoria."_

\- Alan Greenspan

* * *

Kilat loved Joshua.

She could not remember when she started feeling this way, or even why it happened so quickly, when they have only known each other for a few days.

Was it when he found her beneath the bushes and comforted her, a frightened child, alone and terrified out of her wits?

Was it after he saved her from death at the last second, after cursing his own helplessness, his failure in saving her and her three companions?

Or did it simply and rapidly accumulate, whenever Joshua doted over her like an overprotective mother? Whenever Kilat curled up against his side? Whenever something she said or did brought a smile to his face?

Yet for all the Electric dragoness felt for the young man, he could never truly replace the hole Lani left behind.

Yes, Joshua loved her unconditionally. It showed in the way he constantly watched out for her. It showed in how much he wanted her close to him. It showed every time he took on the role of an older brother, even a parent, without explicitly saying so.

And yes, Kilat felt exactly the same way, and loved him no differently than she loved her fellow orphan. She trusted Joshua completely. She stuck around him, almost the way a hatchling followed its parents. Not once did the child shy away from showing her appreciation whenever the opportunity presented itself. He seemed to like it, at any rate.

Of course Joshua had his own brand of care and concern. He acted differently from Lani. He believed in different things. He wanted different things. He looked at life in ways Lani never did, hailing from a culture so foreign to the young dragon child she had barely begun to grasp it.

Even so, Kilat was perfectly okay with it. She knew, if Lani still kept an eye on her, watching from his place with the great and revered Ancestors of the past, the Earth dragon would be beaming with happiness for her. He'd feel relief at how she survived that ordeal with the Apes, and he would be comforted by the fact someone as kind—as caring as Joshua Renalia took her under his wings when he had no other reason but his own yearning to make up for his failure with something he never bore responsibility for in the first place.

Even if he **did** resemble one of those despicable Apes.

Lani might have distrusted Joshua had he been with her back at that waterfall, but the dragoness felt certain he would've come to accept Joshua as she had, and maybe much quicker than she might have given the Earth dragon credit for. He might have even seen him as an older brother as well. Lani was not _that_ much older than her, and he had definitely been younger than Explodon, the eldest in their group.

If only everyone else around them were more capable of looking beneath the surface—if only more of the people from Warfang were like that Red Lady, the older dragoness who saw past Joshua's primate form and saw someone who was as much a brother to the child as she was a sister to him.

Ancestors, the world never worked that way, didn't it?

Kilat glared at the Ice Dragon approaching the two of them on all fours. His nostrils flared, and underneath her golden belly, the child felt frightened shivers traveling up the young man's arms. "I..." She heard him gulp. "I am **not** an ape!" Joshua Renalia contested. She felt the human caress her cheek; she knew he tried to draw strength from her, to overcome the intimidation. Kilat happily obliged, and cuddled up against his torso. "Can't you see I'm **with** a dragon?"

The dragon guard glowered silently, while the two moles barring Joshua's path looked at each other, almost questioningly, if Kilat had the words to describe it.

"**Everybody** **knows **the Apes _hate_ dragons," he continued. "Those _sick monkeys_ wouldn't dare go here alone without an army to back them up."

"Yet here you are," retorted the Ice Dragon, interrupting Joshua before he could follow through.

"For the love of God—

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you **aren't** an ape." He circled Joshua Renalia, glacial eyes flickering up and down, sizing him up. The fearsome guard locked eyes with Kilat, and even the Electric dragoness felt shivers of fear going up her spine. She curled inward, latching on to Joshua with all her might, as if that gesture alone could persuade the guards to give the human a chance.

It didn't. "Unfortunately, after the Apes were freed from the Dark Master's curse, our border patrols started seeing 'new variants' lately. They have less hair, they are smarter, they are _crueler_, and they hate my kind so much more than King Gaul did. And you…" He growled. Both Joshua and his young charge recoiled at the sound. It must've been more terrifying for the human; the dragoness knew his mysterious Element enhanced his hearing immensely.

"You don't have _any_ hair at all, not like those Apes. Yet you walk too much like them. You stand too much like them. You **look too much** like them." His claws crushed the soil beneath them, and Kilat believed the guard was restraining himself as much as possible to retain even a sliver of professionalism when he wanted no more than to rip her older brother apart. "If it wasn't for that _child_ in your arms, I might even think you're **another** new variant. I'd have bet one of my horns on it."

He loomed high above Joshua, high above even Kilat. The dragoness whimpered under his menacing gaze. "Maybe _that's_ why you have her. You're working with Caesar, aren't you? You're trying to do something to this city—to **my** city, and you've gone and cut off this poor girl's wing to gain our sympathy."

"N-no!" Joshua Renalia growled himself. "**NO!" **His grumble could never compare to the honest and true snarl of a dragon, but the fact he steeled himself and contested it confidently made the Ice Dragon lean back, skeptical but willing to listen. "Damn it, look at me!" He pointed to the walking stick snuggled in his left armpit. "All I have is this walking stick! I don't have any weapons. I don't have any armor. I'm f*cking _defenseless_! Besides, look how comfortable Kilat's with me. She'd have no reason to be like that if I'm the one who severed her wing!"

.

.

Kilat loved Joshua.

She did not want to be separated from him, from someone she now considered an older brother, from someone she trusted more than these frightening, hostile guards.

"M, m-mister," the dragoness began, stammering from anxiety, from the fear of losing the human when it's only been days since they met. "Joshua's a hoo-man. He's no ape! He found me in the Dry Canyon the other day after Apes killed my friends and left me to die. He **saved **me."

Kilat looked up at each and every one of the guards, pleadingly. The Ice Dragon. The cheetah. The two moles. Her voice trembled but retained all of its sincerity and appreciation for the human. "He didn't need to, but he _helped_ me. Until now he's **still** going out of his way to help **me**. Ancestors, I **owe** my life to him!" She almost cried. "So p-p-please, let him in. Give my hoo-man a chance. He, h-h-he—Joshua just wants to talk to the, t-the Guardians."

At her heartfelt defense, the moles glanced at each other again, their expressions no longer neutral and uncaring, but _uncertain_. Even the cheetah seemed to melt away at the sight of a young child begging for Warfang's strict, unmoving gatekeepers to overlook the human's uncanny resemblance to the new Apes.

The Ice Dragon's muzzle held a frown rather than an empathic look. He still wanted to pursue the young man, to persecute him for being a furless ape. But he found himself quickly losing power, all because the little girl had something to say and stood by the human.

A young girl still inexperienced in life, Kilat failed to recognize the Ice Dragon's body language. The Electric dragoness did not realize how close he was to relenting to an innocent child's wish. Had she noticed this, she would've urged Joshua to move forward and force the Ice Dragon to keep quiet. He might have had no choice but to watch the human walk past him, walk past the two moles, file his application for entry, and guarantee a meeting with the Guardians that very day.

Instead, she failed to see the signs and simply waited for one side or the other to break. In hindsight, this was the worst thing that could've happened.

The Ice Dragon grumbled. "Urrrrggghhh. I suppose I could—

"Rimeer! What're you _doing_?"

Another adult dragon, his scales a lush combination of vermillion and dark rust, touched down on the ground next to the massive doors of the Eastern Gate, flying in from the top of the wall. The sheer mass of this new dragon crushed the Spirit Gems underneath his feet. While he adorned the same armor as the Ice Dragon, Kilat saw his equipment included a solid, metal chest plate, on which a strange, glinting pattern of metal was affixed…

Rimeer, the Ice Dragon, bowed before the newcomer, who stood taller than him by almost two heads. "Sir, I was about to let these two through. The girl has demonstrated the strength and virtue of her relationship with her hoo-man companion. I believe they are worthy of—

"Relationship? _What_ relationship?" scoffed Rimeer's superior, cutting him off. "Isn't it obvious? This hairless **APE** brainwashed the child. Make no mistake, _rookie. _He's here to spy on Warfang and, on Caesar's behalf, undermine the city council and the Guardians."

"Are you f*cking **insane**?" Joshua yelled, unable to accept the madness happening before them. "Spying? _Brainwashing_? **I** **don't even know** where the goddamn Apes are holed up! Where the f*ck are you getting all these stupid, idiotic—

A spike of ice flew just past Joshua's head. Kilat gasped, watching a red streak appear on his face. His viridian gaze froze, and slowly, he raised his hand and ran his fingers across the wound. His arms began to shudder, seeing the drops of blood.

"Watch your words, hoo-man," Rimeer warned. "Infernus has served Warfang for **months**, and before that, was the leader of a dragon settlement far beyond our borders. He is among the Top 10 candidates for the new Fire Guardian, chosen by the Purple Dragon himself."

Joshua Renalia ignored the Ice Dragon. "Oh my god," he muttered, staring blankly at the blood in his hands. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph…"

Kilat, however, heard every word and replied with a baleful glare of her own. "So? **SO?** I don't care! Infern**ape** there could've _licked_ the Purple Dragon's **cloaca **for all I know! Joshua doesn't deserve being treated like, like he's"—she sniffled.—"like he's evil!"

The Fire Dragon whipped towards her, the merciless, ruthless eyes of a hardened leader boring down on the preadolescent dragoness. "You _impudent_ hatchling! I ought to—

"Excuse me?" called a sixth voice. Another person, this time coming from the back of the line. "Excuse me?" Kilat leaned past her older brother's arm, cobalt eyes observing a dark, brown-furred llama pushing his way to the front of the line. "Hey. Hey, hey, hey, _hey_! What's holding up the line? I have a team of workers hauling in cartloads of vegetables and Spirit Gems from the Tall Plains."

One of the moles broke his guarded stance and jogged to meet the atlawa in the middle. "Sir," he said. "Stay where you are. I'm coming to you! You don't need to—

He finally pushed his way to the very front. "We're running on a tight schedule, and we can't afford to dawdle because you guards…"

The atlawa's voice faltered. Then he did a double take, brown eyes dilating as he spent a good amount of time checking out the only human standing in the middle, surrounded by five obstinate guardsmen. "Spirits!" he exclaimed, loud enough for everyone around him to hear. "An ape! There's an ape at the Gates!"

Murmurs suddenly swept through the crowd.

"An ape?"

"Here? An ape here? At Warfang?"

"Ancestors help us! It's the war all over again!"

"Why won't they just leave us alone, mommy? Why?"

Kilat did not notice the burgundy dragoness she met earlier glance at them from way ahead in the residents' lane, her emerald eyes widening from astonishment. She was simply too busy grimacing over the increasing mutterings reverberating amongst all the people around them.

"F*ck me!" Joshua bellowed. "For the last damn time, I am **not** one of those f*cking apes! I'm a _human_! A human being. A_ completely different species_!"

The atlawa manager replied, "Do you think we're fools? You don't work for Caesar. You work for **Malefor**!"

"What the hell! He's gone! You can't just—

"There's no such thing as a _human_. I've never heard of 'em." He thrust a finger at Joshua. "Your unusual appearance is nothing but the work of black magic!"

Kilat crawled up Joshua's shoulder to glare at this disgraceful creature. "You're **wrong**! Joshua only wants help _from_ the Guardians! He's not involved with—

He wasn't listening. "See? Do you all see that?" His finger now pointed at the Electric dragoness perched on the young man's shoulder. "Look how he's **corrupted** an innocent child! By the Spirits, the ape wants to assassinate the Purple Dragon! Rob us of our city's pillars while we sleep in the dead of the night!"

The murmuring grew louder. Kilat could no longer ignore the terrified, fearful expressions spreading, rippling across the crowd as though a stone of dread had been chucked into the middle of a large pond. "He didn't do anything!" the dragoness screamed. "It's not fair! Even if he looks a little like an ape, that doesn't mean he **is** one!"

Her protests failed to pacify the crowd. She didn't know what to do. Sweat started pooling in her paws. The young child hissed, frustrated, unable to figure out why this was happening and how to stop it before things came head to head. The City of Warfang was the **last place** she expected to breed feelings of dread and anxiety, not after Explodon, Glacia, and Rockclaw advertised its peace and safety so shamelessly back in Mungo Volpe.

"Poor girl."

"Poor, poor girl."

"Look! Her left wing! It's gone."

"It's that ape. He took it from her, tricked her with his sinister black magic."

"The Dark Master's back? Is he really back?"

"Look! Look over there! At the Gates! That's proof standing right there!"

Kilat began to cry. Ancestors, why wasn't anyone listening? She was telling the truth. She had nothing to bank on but her utter honesty. Why were these people attacking Joshua Renalia like this? He was her older brother now. He took care of her. He _loved_ her as much as she loved him. Why couldn't they see that? Why did they focus too much on his form?

Why?

Why?

**Why?**

"Kilat." The dragon child whipped her muzzle down, towards the human being. She must've had a horrified mien on her snout, or she wouldn't have felt him fondle her tail. "Don't cry. It's no use. I… We… There're plenty of people like them back home, too. We call them _retards_."

Before she could respond to his words of comfort, someone shouted above the growing din. "Kill the furless ape!"

"Chop off his head and put it on a spike!" added a cheetah from the line added, "That'll teach Apes not to mess with us!"

The crowd—the _mob_ approached, closing in on Joshua and Kilat with loathing making itself at home between their eyes. The guards did nothing. In fact, they seemed to surround them too, cutting off the open spaces around them.

Rimeer ambled towards them. The Ice Dragon's muzzle was emotionless. Callous. "Hoo-man, by the order of Infernus, tenth candidate for the Fire Guardian and former leader of the Midnight Mountain settlement, you are arrested for the kidnapping and torture of a young dragon, attempted espionage, and attempted assassination of the Saviors and the Guardians. You can come quietly and wait for your judgment in front of the Guardians and the Warfang Council, or we can **kill** you."

Joshua began to panic. "N-no! You're wrong. You're **all** wrong! I'm innocent! You can't do this. You can't just assume I'm guilty! Don't you have due process?"

Rimeer walked onward, momentarily nodding at the cheetah for some help in restraining an uncooperative target. He did not offer Joshua the solace of a reply. The Red Lady looked away from them, her ears, wings, and muzzle all showing the signs of sorrow and disappointment. She was afraid to speak up. Honestly, Kilat never blamed her for holding her peace, even after the burgundy dragoness apologized for this choice multiple times in the days to come.

"F*ck me. F*ck me, f*ck me, f*ck me! I didn't go to Warfang's gates for this shit!"

.

.

Kilat loved Joshua.

When she threw herself at him on the afternoon they met, mourning over Lani's sacrifice most of all and the gaping hole he left behind, she doubted Joshua's concern for her too many times, far too many, in the span of a few minutes. But whenever she entertained those doubts, whenever she listened to her own disbelief, she found nothing except true safety, genuine care, and an exposed neck.

She decided to trust him from that day onward. She would stand by him, through thick and thin, because she had a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to stand beside her when she needed him.

He did exactly that when he chose to go through the Eastern Gate rather than sneaking into the city, and at great personal risk, only so Kilat wouldn't suffer from the life of an impoverished tramp.

Now it was time to stand beside him when he needed her.

"No, I'm **not** losing someone I care about **again**!" Kilat leaped off the human, feeling the energy within her come to life. She surrendered to it, letting it flow throughout her. "You won't take him away! You won't, you _won't_!" Electricity streamed from her snout, inundating the ground between Joshua and the guards with deadly, hurtful yellow bolts.

One of the people in the rapidly-forming mob screamed.

"The ape has cast a spell on the dragoness!"

"Ancestors, it's black magic!"

"Any dragonflies here? Someone go get help!"

"Run! Run before the child turns!"

"No! Kill the ape! _KILL THE APE_!"

Kilat found a small group of atlawas, cheetahs, and moles trying to attack Joshua from behind. The dragoness listened to her instincts, pooling the stinging energy of her mana in front of her muzzle. She shot the Electric Orb at the center of the group, forcing them to scatter. She repeated it again and again, trying to keep the crowd at bay.

The child needed to open a way out. It **had** to be her. Joshua lacked the ability to reliably tap into his Element, and even if he didn't, its potency was too frightening to actually consider for something as simple as crowd control.

"Stay away from me!"

The two armored moles lunged at Joshua Renalia. He brandished his walking stick, barely in time to deflect the spears coming his way. Their steel blades chipped the ironwood, and the sheer strength behind the attack pushed him back.

An Atlawa bystander took action, rushing the human from behind.

Joshua spun as if he had eyes on the back of his head—Ancestors, Kilat almost forgot, the Unknown Element allowed him to sense life from all directions!—and struck the furry llama in the neck. It did not truly hurt this everyday hero, but the impact brought him down long enough for the human to turn right back around and avoid being skewered by two spears.

"Joshua!" Kilat spat a breath of lightning at the moles. Thousands of volts struck one and immediately arced to the other, attracted by the conductive nature of their armor. "Now! Attack now!" It hurt them, only slightly, but the brief paralysis gave the human enough time to retaliate.

Rimeer was suddenly upon her. A large, looming shadow of an adult Ice dragon bearing down on a preadolescent less than half his size. He twisted his rear, lashing out with a tail covered in ice and radiating a freezing mist. Instincts screamed at the dragoness to **avoid** getting hit by this at all costs.

Joshua's warning magnified the anxiety coursing through her. "He's trying to paralyze you! Don't **ever** let his attacks hit!"

The child went prone, collapsing all four of her legs. Rimeer's massive tail curved past her; he would've struck her successfully if Kilat had never lost her left wing in the first place. She rolled a split second before the Ice Dragon unleashed his ice breath on her exact position, which left behind a clump of frozen grass.

She directed the electricity within into her sharp talons, her hind feet bending to propel her towards her gargantuan opponent—

"I'm sorry, little girl."

Rimeer abused every advantage his adult body had over Kilat and swatted her with a forepaw with blue mist trailing behind it. He did not have any of his claws extended, not when he viewed her as a hapless victim. Kilat yelped from the blunt pain as she spun across the dirt road, dazed but not yet out of the fight.

"Shit! KILAT!" Joshua howled her name. "Don't you hurt her!" The Unknown Element responded to his distress, and for a brief moment, white wisps followed the walking stick in his hands, the same way a miniscule amount of a dragon's Element could be manifested in physical attacks. They were barely visible underneath the bright sun, but Kilat saw it as clear as day, only because she was paying attention.

Joshua sidestepped the two moles and ran closer towards them. His stick struck the two and suddenly they were down, incapable of movement. Their bodies looked unhurt, clean and devoid of blood, but the confusion plastered on their faces clearly indicated something had happened. Something they couldn't explain. Something that penetrated their armor. Something that tipped the scales to his favor.

It lasted for a single moment.

Because as soon as there was empty space between him and Kilat, Joshua was interrupted mid-sprint by the hulking form of Rimeer barreling down at him, horns down, covered in icy mist. It didn't matter if the human sensed him coming. He wouldn't have been able to do anything about it, not at the speed the Ice Dragon had been dashing.

Kilat shrieked as her cobalt eyes slowly bore witness to those two massive horns skewering the human and the force of the charge lifting Joshua into the air and flinging him into an observing mole watching the fight from apparent safety. The child heard multiple bones break. Instead of seeing the bag of crystals dropping from the farm harvester's hands, Kilat felt her second wind coming. She rushed to assist her older brother. "NO!"

She crushed a green Spirit Gem growing close to her and sprinted towards Joshua. The cheetah guard ran in and obstructed her path, a shield in his hands, ready to bash and knock her out cold. She lowered her head and pointed her own horns at the enemy in front of her, channeling her electricity into her charge.

The dragoness slammed into the cheetah's shield, her power enhanced by her own Element.

Bolts of lightning exploded all around the helpless cheetah, while the charge itself caused the metal to crumple behind the full weight and force of her thick, curved horns. Kilat kept going after the attack, not bothering to even check whether or not the guard was electrocuted to death. Joshua populated her thoughts. She imagined him suffering, the way she imagined the Apes must have tormented Lani after she escaped.

Apprehensive, Kilat committed herself to seeing through to his safety. Nothing more, nothing less.

Rimeer once again faced her. The golden dragoness readied the strongest Electric Orb she had ever made and spewed it in his direction, yet this time around the cerulean dragon answered her offensive with an orb of his own, lobbing a sphere of blue mist in its direction. Both globes burst in an opaque screen of lightning and snow, blocking even Joshua from her line of sight.

Kilat rushed undeterred. Once more, the preadolescent summoned her inner electricity. But rather than unleashing it from her muzzle, she allowed it to radiate from her body, emit the lightning from every pore and hole and nerve within her. A golden coat of electricity surrounded her, pulsing and revolving around her, which she hoped would prevent any of her enemies from immobilizing her. Not until she got to Joshua.

Unfortunately, Rimeer had been waiting for her when she finally shot past the point of collision. Instead of avoiding her attacks, he took Kilat head-on. He pounced on the dragon child, pummeling her muzzle and withstanding the electric shocks until the current surrounding her dissipated from sudden loss of control. This time he pinned her down, forcing her to watch Joshua as he slumped down to the grass.

"Amazing," he briefly remarked, awed. "I've never seen a dragon as young as you pull off the Volt Tackle like that before."

She snubbed him. "Let go!" Kilat kept squirming, struggling to squeeze herself out from underneath the Ice Dragon's body. "I said let go! **JOSHUA!**" Her eyes registered the blood pooling out of the boy, his slumped form on the ground, just a step or two away from a red Spirit Gem. "Joshua! Get up." Tears fell from the child. "Get **UP**!"

"The ape is dying, little girl," Rimeer said in her ear. "But don't worry. You'll thank us for it later, when the magic finally wears off."

"What magic? **What** magic?" she hollered, discharging electricity. She couldn't do it through her scales again, not with the uncomfortable pressure the Ice Dragon dug into certain areas of her body, disorienting her focus. "There's **no** magic! Joshua's right. You're _all _crazy!"

She heard Infernus speak. "Knock her out, Rimeer. We do not need any more drama from a stupid, talkative child—

A collective gasp rose from the crowd of residents and travelers surrounding them. A grown woman shrieked, and she saw a strange type of mole, one that looked less tech-savvy than the kind defending Warfang. Joshua would have called it a manweersmall had she asked about it earlier, while they were walking to the Eastern Gates. The dragoness watched its large, elongated snout open wide in a panic and release another scream as she broke off from the crowd, sharp claws, gray fur, and all.

Kilat's weeping tapered off, her azure gaze registering the human being slowly getting up with a few red crystals in his hands. Several dragonflies were flying in from inside the city walls, circling the entire spectacle like witnesses. "Impossible!" One said on arrival. "Only dragons use Spirit Gems!"

More guards poured out of the Eastern Gates, their armor bulkier, their blades seemingly sharper and more dangerous—a much higher quality. Kilat lost count at fifteen, and three among them were dragons that weren't quite adults, but nonetheless larger than the Red Lady. Rimeer shifted his position atop her, obviously ensuring she had much less room to wriggle and writhe.

Infernus declared, "See? This is **proof** the furless ape is a ward of the Dark Master! No mere ape can harness the power of our Ancestors so easily."

They had it all wrong, Kilat wanted to say. Joshua had his own Element. He—Ancestors, she couldn't speak! Rimeer's weight on her body barely allowed her to breathe.

"Why do you keep _assuming_ the worst, Infernus?" Joshua said. It came out not so much as a question as it was a plea. "Can't you just **think **that I **can** absorb the Spirit Gems naturally? Are you so dumb you'd prefer something so extreme instead of a stupidly simple issue? I just want to talk to the Guardians so I can understand what's going on with me. Nothing else!"

Infernus replied, "That's how we survived in the Midnight Mountain, ape. We evaded all of the Dark Master's reconnaissance because we **always** assumed the worst."

"What is _wrong _with you?" he shouted. "I swear to you, I'm not here to hurt the Guardians, **or** the Saviors! I'd **never** hurt them! I'm not one of those stupid Apes! I'm **human**!"

One of the new guards snarled. "You're lying!"

"All non-combatants," the large, armored Fire dragon pronounced. "Retreat into the city or get as far away as possible. This Ape's been revealed to be a servant working **directly** under the Dark Master! With his cover blown away, I fear he may start using deadly magic from this point onward."

Joshua cursed him, disregarding the civilians scattering into the farmland or ushering past the guards into the protection of the city. "You f*cking son of a bitch! I'm only here to talk, maybe even move into Warfang! I _don't really know_! I'm alone, and I just want help." Kilat felt the anger in his words, but for all the ferociousness in his cadence, the Electric dragoness saw his quivering legs betray him. His walking stick intermittently and faintly glowing white. Whether fright or ire or _both _moved him, Kilat could care less. Because he needed her. By the Ancestors, he needed her beside him. "But you're so **damn blind **you'd rather think I'm working for Malefor or those monkeys!"

Infernus growled, but Joshua was too emotional to care now, throwing out one name Kilat never heard him mention. "Spyro would _never _choose someone like you to replace Ignitus! I could think of a hundred reasons why you'll **never** live up to him."

"I've heard enough," rumbled the Fire dragon. "Rimeer, take care of the girl now. Everyone, on my count, we will charge and destroy—

A new voice interrupted him, spoken with enough authority that Infernus dropped everything. "What is going on here?"

Kilat's eyes dilated. The Purple Dragon was flying down from the sky, followed by a black, slender dragoness and a golden dragonfly. She saw the youth in his features, in his purple scales and the unwrinkled skin of his reddish wings. He was not that much larger than the Red Lady, and he still stood a head or two shorter than the other young adults among the guards.

Rimeer grumbled. A low growl no one else but Kilat heard. "_She_'s here…"

"We were doing a routine patrol around Warfang when we saw the commotion from the sky. I wanted to check it out. Infernus"—he eyed the Ice Dragon, purple orbs scrutinizing the golden dragon beneath his belly—"Can you tell me what's happening? Why does Rimeer have a _child_ pinned under—

"Whoa!" a baritone voice bellowed from the dragonfly, to Kilat's shock. A dragonfly couldn't speak _that_ loudly, could it? "There's an ape at the Gates. That's not something you see everyday. And look, it's mostly bald!"

The Purple Dragon and the black dragoness accompanying him turned immediately and ogled Joshua, just as the young man replied with something akin to relief forming on his face, "Damn it, Sparx! This isn't the time for your stupid jokes. And I'm **not** an ape. I'm **not** bald." He shook his head, a little amused at the insect. "I was just born this way, geez!"

The black one leered at the dragonfly, her grin visible. "Heh," she chuckled, "Looks like I'm not the only one who finds you annoying."

Sparx the dragonfly did not say anything. He hovered closer to the Purple Dragon's golden horns, wary of the human. The Hero of the Dragon Realms ogled the flying insect, an expression of confusion on his muzzle. "Sparx, do you know this… errr, creature?"

He shook his head.

Joshua Renalia moved again, but unlike before his posture exuded some level of comfort. Kilat felt waves of relief emanating from him. From her point of view, they were honestly and truly done for, but if her older brother could still see a sliver of hope right now, then perhaps he knew the situation far better than she did.

"I am so glad to see you two!" he said.

The Purple Dragon stiffened at his approach, legs tensing up, preparing for any sudden moves. Joshua instantly raised his arms, placing the stick back between his armpit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there. I'm just trying to talk. Look, Spyro, Cynder... and Sparx... my name is Joshua. I know you've never seen me before, but I'm a _human_, okay? That's what my species is called." He shot Infernus a vindictive look. "Let me tell you **exactly **what that jerkass over there is doing—

The vermillion dragon put his feet down between the teenager and the Savior. "You're not going anywhere close to the Purple Dragon, ape." Tongues of fire flared in his maw. "Take another step and I'll—

"Cynder!" The Hero's voice cut her off. "What're you doing?"

Kilat watched the slender dragoness slink around the adult Fire Dragon, approaching the human of her own volition. Her movements were careful, but non-threatening. This Cynder at least showed some willingness to trust Joshua. Thank the Ancesto—wait… Cynder?

_Cynder_?

"I'm hearing him out, Spyro," she said.

"But… something feels off about him and all the guards…!"

"Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding," she reasoned. "This ap—this _human_, seems to know us, and he's smiling. That's new, isn't it?

"Well… I… I guess…"

"Also, I **did** hear him say your name and Ignitus's before we touched down."

The circumspection in his stance relaxed. "He, h-he did?"

Infernus scowled. "Do what you want, little _devil_. If the ape attacks you, I will not—

"Infernus!" growled Spyro, wings flaring open at the insult.

The Fire dragon submitted to the youth, clearly showing just who he answered to. "My apologies," he said. Everyone who heard him speak knew he meant none of it.

Unfortunately, Kilat had long stopped paying attention to the scene unfolding before her. "Cynder?" she muttered, wondering why the name felt so familiar. "Cynder, Cynder, Cynder…? Ancestors, why does that sound so…"

Rimeer, released from his stupor by Kilat's stillness and way she tasted the dragoness's name on her tongue, lowered his snout towards her. "Yes, little girl," he said, his posture shifting. "That is indeed Cynder. The Terror of the Skies." His voice carried disdain. Suppressed fury.

That dragoness was the Terror of the Skies? The same dragon, who led the Apes as they rampaged across the known reaches of the Dragon Realms? As they slaughtered every dragon encampment they encountered and enslaved all the other races?

A memory almost long forgotten flashed in the child's eyes. She remembered a tall, slender dragon looming above the bloodied bodies of her father and older brother, as she and a band of Apes cornered her mother and her two surviving siblings. She'd never forget the six ivory horns sprouting from her skull, the magenta coloring her wing membranes and her underside, or the platinum necklace wrapped around her throat.

Cynder, the Terror of the Skies.

The dragoness in front of her, the same dragoness _walking to Joshua_ at this very moment, looked almost exactly like she did in Kilat's dreams, in her buried memories. Kilat did not understand—did not _care_ to understand why she was so small now, or why she did not bear the metal collar on her neck. The Electric dragon did not understand why the Purple Dragon of Legend associated with an embodiment of evil, with a true servant of Malefor.

All she saw was the Terror of the Skies herself closing in on the human who became her older brother, looming above the young man's head.

.

.

Kilat loved Joshua.

She had lost her entire family to the Apes, murdered by the black dragoness herself as they threw themselves at her in an act of sacrifice.

She had lost Lani to the Apes seven years later, dead in another heroic sacrifice.

She refused to lose anyone like that ever again.

Kilat renewed her struggling. Rimeer's new posture gave the golden dragon enough wiggle room for her to curl inward and bite the Ice Dragon's underside. "Ow!" he blurted, jumping off of her.

Kilat saw the window of opportunity and made use of it. She evoked the electricity charging—rippling through her body. Lightning burst from her scales as Kilat bolted away from Rimeer, not noticing the knowing smirk on his muzzle.

"Cynder!" she yelled at the black dragoness, enraged.

"Kilat," Joshua called to her. "It's fine! She's not—

She heard nothing. "You killed mom and dad! My _family_!"

"KILAT!" Joshua reached out to her, but she proved too fast, speeding beyond his outstretched hand with electricity pooling in her snout.

She saw nothing, not even the guilty expression flaring on her target's muzzle. "You're not killing Joshua too!"

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Ugh, I'm not feeling all too impressed with the battle scene in the middle of the chapter. I think it could've gone better, and it does feel a little rushed. I hope it can pass.

Either way, our favorite characters finally (and literally) drop in on the chaos… but it looks like Kilat's family wasn't exactly killed by the Apes. So much for a peaceful resolution.

Anyway, exam day's in two weeks! No more procrastinating now! :D


	13. An Unhatched Egg

**Chapter 13: An Unhatched Egg**

* * *

"_Paranoia is the world. It is the attempt to make sense of what has not."_

\- Thomas Pynchon

* * *

Joshua Renalia rose to his feet, trembling as the HP crystals in his hands worked their magic. The blessings of the Ancestors flowed through the human, operating through his connection to them, through the Unknown Element.

But even then, Infernus refused to see Joshua as a young man with something he couldn't explain. A teenager seeking help, lost and possibly the only individual of his species here in the Dragon Realms. The Guardian Candidate preferred to view the human from tinted glasses, seeing him not as a boy who wanted to go home, but a servant of the Dark Master, determined to kill the city from the inside-out.

Joshua stood his ground in defiance. A valiant stance, facing not a pack of Death Hounds looking for a meal but a paranoid people, traumatized by the war and fearing enemy resurgence, with or without Malefor himself. His self-awareness extended for 500 meters, for as far as Joshua's Element naturally permitted. He took account of all pulses of life surrounding him.

All the armed guards in front. All the chary civilians behind.

All vibrating rapidly. All fluctuating from cool blue to an agitated red and back.

Kilat's pulse shook and squirmed under the Ice Dragon, sparkling and flickering. Like firelight against the breeze.

He did not notice the white glow of his Element coating the ironwood stick in his hands, because he couldn't afford to take his eyes off his enemies, off the people who wanted to kill him just for resembling an ape, even just a little.

Because trepidation and reprieve equally thundered in his heart, crushing his chest with a terror Joshua would never be able to describe with words even if he had Earth's most comprehensive thesaurus laid out in front of him.

So when he watched the Saviors glide down from Warfang airspace, when he saw the two most prominent dragons in the _Legend _trilogy literally descending from the heavens, a smile instantly appeared on the teenager's face. A gleaming speck of light materialized in the darkness: the end of this sinister tunnel of speciesism and paranoia-induced stupidity. Amazement and admiration—no—a **God moment** overwhelmed Joshua Renalia every second his emerald gaze took in their magnificent forms.

It was the moment he had been waiting for—he had been _wishing for_ since his arrival in the Dragon Realms.

The moment he met Spyro and Cynder.

In his old life—a life of video games, movies, sex, high school, and alcohol—Joshua Renalia was an avid reader as much as he was a fan of the _Spyro the Dragon_ franchise. He absorbed Wikipedia articles, TV Tropes pages, and Spyro wikia entries much more often than he'd willingly admit to his friends and his significant other.

When he wasn't busy getting off on the latest issue of FHM, Joshua's iPad typically cast his russet face in blue light, viridian eyes lazily ogling the bright iPad as his thumb scrolled down and down until he fell asleep on his foam mattress.

Spyro.

A young dragon, compassionate for others, Joshua had read. He was always willing to help others, never asking for rewards, and merely content with the joy, the satisfaction of someone smiling. Highly intelligent, eager to learn and grow, and courageous, by the end of _Dawn of the Dragon_ Spyro had grown into a respected individual, who would choose a path only he knew felt right. A fitting destiny for the Purple Dragon of Legend, a hero embodying Change itself.

On the other hand, Cynder was once a tainted monster loyal to the Dark Master, her early life characterized by tragedy.

As time passed, her guilt and desire to overcome the misfortunes of her past—actions, choices she had no control over—paved the way for her ingenuity and autonomy. As intelligent as Spyro and perhaps even more so, she was a spirited one, unafraid to take the initiative or express her thoughts. Cynder was as much an active foil to the passive but sanguine Hero of the Dragon Realms as he was to her.

Joshua recited these profiles in his mind as he watched the two Protagonists of _Dawn of the Dragon_, an expression of reverence obvious to anyone who bothered to glance at his face.

Spyro and Cynder.

_Oh my God!_

Spyro _and_ Cynder!

The genuine articles.

_Oh my f*cking God!_

His most beloved, childhood heroes of all time.

And they were so close. Right in front of him, paws gracefully stepping on the grass.

_They're here._

In person.

_They're __**really**__ here._

In the motherf*cking flesh!

.

.

**Right, in front, of him**!

.

.

Joshua Renalia suppressed the urge to squeal when his heroes stopped the fight before it even had a chance to erupt. Without realizing it, the teenager left his common sense behind—abandoned the remnant doubt that had been cast when he watched Hunter accompany Paddock out of Warfang's boundaries.

For a moment the teenager was so overcome with happiness, he forgot all the terrors of speciesism. Ravenously he eyeballed the Saviors of the Dragon Realms, committing as much as he could to memory. He didn't care if he'd end up turning the both of them into his friends. They were like **gods** to him. Legends!

_Living_ legends!

He felt like—he _became _a little boy again, ogling the lifelike graphics on the TV screen. If it wasn't for the fact his Element enabled him to smell the scents naturally floating off of Spyro's and Cynder's bodies—even associate them with that of a musky swamp and a resinous smoke, Joshua might have thought this was all a bad dream. That he still lay in bed, trapped in enough nightmares to put Christopher Nolan's _Inception_ to shame.

One'd think, after playing the games, loitering in wikis, and surreptitiously downloading _Spyro_ artwork from DeviantArt in the middle of the night as though each piece was no less beguiling than the pornography tucked under his pillow—after **everything** he had ever looked up on _The Legend of Spyro_ and the franchise itself, Joshua wouldn't have reacted the way he did. Spyro's scales shimmered under the sunlight. The purple was so unusual—so _flawless_ the boy couldn't help but **stare**. It looked… _he _looked **so different** in the flesh!

"Whoa!"

A voice—a _very_ familiar voice shook Joshua Renalia out of his intent staring. "There's an ape at the Gates! That's not something you see every day." Emerald eyes identified the golden dragonfly circling around him—at a distance—wiry arms crossed and scratching the smooth exoskeleton. "And look, it's mostly bald!"

As soon as Sparx the dragonfly called him out, the very saviors Joshua was too busy eye-raping turned away from a conversation with the fraud that dared call himself a candidate for the next Fire Guardian. They turned **to him**. They stared **at** **him**. But the dangers lurking behind their lofty pedestals still were generous enough to let the human enjoy the moment. "Damn it, Sparx!" he said without thinking. "This isn't the time for your stupid jokes. And I'm **not** an ape. I'm **not** bald." Shaking his head, "I was just born this way, geez!"

Another pair of eyes just as viridian as the boy's rolled towards the insect. "Heh, looks like I'm not the only one who finds you annoying."

Spyro himself looked lost in confusion. "Sparx, do you know this…" He glanced at the young man, still uncertain. "…err, creature?"

Seeing an end to the farce Rimeer and Infern_ape_ orchestrated, and a new beginning for what would probably become an extended stay in the City of Dragons, Joshua Renalia swallowed all the jitters, all the excitement of meeting his heroes of his childhood. "I am so glad to see you two!" He said, stepping forward. Joshua only had one chance. And he—

The dream became a nightmare.

Glass shattered.

Spyro and Cynder alike tensed the second he approached them. Joshua discerned their life signatures instantly compressing into tight spheres. He couldn't feel any rippling from either of them—_he_ _couldn't read them_, but even he sensed faint traces of power sheathing their paws. Enveloping the bony fingers of their wings.

Did they…

Did they see him as a **threat**?

Joshua Renalia remembered this wasn't the Dragon Realms he expected, and almost a few seconds too late. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there." He pinned his walking stick underneath his arm and raised his hands, palms facing out. "I'm just trying to talk."

The Heroes remained silent. Their eyes were not friendly. Their eyes were assiduous.

**Judging**.

Nobody spoke. Not even Sparx, who hid behind Spyro's horns like a spineless coward.

"Look," Joshua began, emerald-green eyes panning to his intended, to his **real** audience. "Spyro, Cynder"—glimpsing the ire flashing from the dragonfly's pulse—"and Sparx." He took another step forward. No reaction. _Good._ "My name is Joshua. I know you've never seen me before, but I'm a **human** okay? That's what my species is called."

The two dragons nodded. Then he noticed both were bigger than what the games led him to believe. Spyro and Cynder were as tall as him, maybe even surpassing him by an inch. They easily surpassed the only dragoness that showed him friendship rather than discrimination. They must've had another growth spurt in the past four years, Joshua realized. _Guess they're not getting any younger. _He ogled the vermilion adult standing behind them. "You want to know what's going on?" he asked, taking a stab at the unasked question. "Let me tell you **exactly** what that jerkass over there is doing—

Predictably, Infernus went between him and the two Saviors. "You're not going anywhere close to the Purple Dragon, ape." He made an attempt to intimidate the human. Joshua didn't want to admit it out loud, but it worked. He hoped his body wasn't shivering badly enough for everyone else to notice the fear crawling back into him. "Take another step and I'll—

To his surprise—to Spyro's surprise, the black dragoness weaved—circled her way around that stupid Guardian Candidate. Joshua found her pointed muzzle a little difficult to interpret, but he believed Cynder wore an inquisitive expression. It never came close to Kilat's obsessive (and cute) curiosity, yet it was nonetheless a good sign.

Finally! Someone **important **was going to **listen** to him!

"Cynder!" Spyro called after her, his voice an odd, but pleasant blend of Elijah Wood and Tom Kenny. _Must be puberty._ "What're you doing?"

"I'm hearing him out, Spyro,"she replied, self-assured.

"But…" Spyro fidgeted, eyeing Joshua warily. "Something feels off about him. And the guards—

"Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding." He could hear Cynder's assertiveness flowing from her tongue. Self-assured. Experienced and mature. "This ape"—she quickly corrected herself.—"This _human_, seems to know us, and he's _smiling_. That's new, isn't it?"

Probably because every other primate they met preferred to scowl at them, hiss at them, or attempt to outright kill them.

The Purple Dragon of Legend knew his position was weak. "Well, I…" He looked away. "I guess…" For a second there, Joshua thought he saw _A New Beginning_'s Spyro there. Clearly some things never changed.

"Also, I **did** hear him say your name and Ignitus's before we touched down."

Joshua blinked. She _did_? She heard him dropping the names when he threw a fit of indignation at Infernus earlier? Damn it. He must've slipped again! That's _another_ complication he didn't need.

"He, h-he did?"

The Guardian Candidate grimaced. "Do what you want, _little devil_."

"Little devil"? Was Cynder still hated? How—that didn't make sense! It's been four years **after **the war. Surely her role in defeating Malefor had gone wide and far by now.

"If the ape attacks you, I will not—"

"Infernus!" Spyro chastised.

"…My apologies." Even Joshua knew his apology was empty.

Cynder rolled her eyes at the Fire Dragon's insult and pushed onward. She calmly walked towards the human, her posture brimming from grace. Joshua's heart thumped. It thumped quicker and quicker as Cynder closed in on him, her emerald gaze scrutinizing him.

Like Spyro, the video games did not turn out to be as accurate as he expected. The light looked as if it arced around her, emphasizing not the dark Byzantium of _Legend _trilogy but scales black enough to compete with Toothless. She had the grace of a mature, cultured dragoness. Even a human like Joshua couldn't doubt she **did **possess the beauty that captivated hundreds of _Legend_ fans, motivated them to churn out one fanfiction—one fanart after another for years on end, up to almost a decade after the games' release and still going hot.

Despite the grace embedded in her footfalls, despite the calm tranquility permeating her demeanor, that did not stop the various pulses of life from tightening as the former Terror of the Skies moved away from Spyro the Dragon and sauntered towards the center, where Joshua Renalia faced the crowd by his lonesome.

Isolated.

Singled out.

Ripples of coagulated emotion swept through the crowd. While not the entirety of the group surrounding them, it included a great many, even among the other guards. Many enough to be noticeable should they all act in concert.

Joshua exhaled slowly. Cynder meant well, but the retarded bigots around them weren't taking her direct intervention kindly. He steeled himself, knowing anything could—

"You scared?"

The human regarded Cynder. Four years older, she had grown bigger since _Dawn of the Dragon_. The outsized crest on her forehead was no longer so disproportionate. Little by little this charming dragoness recovered the adult body she once had. The body many associated with murder. With evil.

"We won't hurt you unless you give us a reason to."

Leave it to the Saviors to be one of the more competent ones in this godforsaken place. "I know." Joshua smiled. A sincere grin, certainly buttressed by the fact he was talking **one on one **with a childhood hero of his. "I know you and Spyro aren't like that."

"You _do_?" Fascination shone in her eyes. "Hmmmmm, whenever someone meets us for the first time, usually they come in believing we're something else. They like to think Spyro's a swaggering hero ready to pounce at something all the time." She just described _Classic_ Spyro in a sentence. Joshua almost chuckled at that. "And when they look at me, they…" Her voice trailed off. Frustration—and misery—appeared on her black, pointed muzzle.

"You're the last dragon they'd expect to have saved the world with him," Joshua noted morosely.

A pause. "Joshua, was it?"

"Yes." He didn't like where this was going. Neither did he draw any comfort from the six, sharp horns of ivory growing out of her head.

Cynder locked eyes with him. "You know quite a bit, don't you?" She was suspicious.

Oh, he knew _much more_ than "quite a bit". He knew her life story by heart. He knew _Spyro_'s by heart. He knew enough to be a significant liability. But Joshua didn't dare reveal that, **or **the truth propping it all up.

Not now.

Not even if they somehow became friends in the near future.

It would drive them mad.

"Just enough to know what you and Spyro are like," he responded. The human hoped a small, innocent smile worked to alleviate any distrust from her. "Sorry, Cynder. Being out here makes me nervous. Ever since you came to me, the people around us are—

She huffed. "Ancestors, I don't know why many still look at me that way. But I don't let it bother me." Joshua analyzed her expression. He had a hard time believing that last one. "I know you don't call yourself an Ape, but honestly…" Cynder's eyes panned up and down, assessing the human. "You still look a little bit too much like one to me."

On to business then. "That's **why** I'm in this mess in the first place."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not surprised." _Wow_, she definitely empathized with his plight. That made things so much easier! "So, Joshua, can you tell me why you're here—

"Cynder!"

Joshua Renalia whipped around at the sound of the voice. That was Kilat! What's—

A bestial growl rumbled from the Electric dragon's throat. The child he was responsible for, the child he was beginning to see as a younger sister, galloped towards the two of them. Joshua would never figure out how she escaped from beneath Rimeer's weight. He never took the time to, for she charged at them, the expression on her muzzle a most vicious mien. It contrasted the adorable, childish affection he had seen on it since rescuing her from certain death. Arcs of electricity coated every inch of her monotone, golden scales as she headed for…

Headed for Cynder!

Everything finally clicked. She saw Cynder as an enemy, still. As another one of those goddamn _bigots_.

He had to educate her.

"Kilat! It's fine! She's not—

The little girl _ignored_ him. Her anger only increased as her cobalt eyes homed in on Cynder, eye-raping her as he himself had done earlier. "You killed mom and dad! My **family**!"

Her words knocked all the wind out of the human. No way. No _fucking _way! She told him the Apes invaded her hidden settlement and wiped the whole place clean. Cynder had nothing to do with this! It was had King Gaul's name written all over it. How could Cynder have gotten—

Emerald eyes landed on the black dragoness.

Her lips flattened. Its edges tight. Cynder's magenta wings drooped, wilting until they protectively curled around her lithe body, coating her in pure black. Joshua almost missed the guilt-stricken expression flushing her snout for a brief second. It vanished almost instantly.

But there was no mistaking the shame—the _remorse_ living in her own green eyes. Even her life signature shrunk in on itself, not out of deliberate compression but in response to the emotions surely coursing through her.

She had been there.

_Cynder_ had _been_ there.

In her capacity as the cursed dragon of Malefor, she led the Apes to Kilat's home.

Joshua prayed to the Almighty Father that the dragoness did not do the deed herself. Yet by bringing the monkeys there she might as well have bloodied her own claws. He understood exactly where Kilat came from.

But at the same time, he knew Cynder's life story much more than the child ever did. She was not truly at fault. She had been cursed, her inner light overwhelmed by the darkness of Malefor's influence. Kilat would never know this. Kilat would **never** understand this if she didn't stop and give herself several hours—several _days_ to think.

He had to stop her.

"KILAT!"

Joshua Renalia reached for the golden dragon as she blew past him in a mad dash to assault Cynder. He extended his hand, hoping to at least grab one of her feet as she passed. "Wait, you don't under—

She was too fast.

"You're not killing Joshua, too!"

The terrifying voltage inundating her body produced immense heat and a frightening hum in the air close to him. Bolts of electricity soared from her maw. One struck the ground in front of the adolescent dragoness. The Heroine of the Dragon Realms flapped her wings twice and propelled herself backwards to evade another wave of lightning.

Spyro's voice rang, distinct and rich in apprehension. "CYNDER!"

He wasn't the only one worried. Even Joshua Renalia tried to help. "Look out!"

"Wha—

Her own emerald orbs dilated at the sight of Kilat charging in at point blank, her curved horns lowered and aimed for her flank. It was too late for her to avoid the child. To do so meant giving her an opportunity to penetrate her scales, to gut her as Rimeer had torn the flesh off of Joshua and wounded the human so severely he might have bled to death if he'd fallen unconscious before drawing healing energy from the Spirit Gems falling out of that manweersmall's pouch.

So Cynder did the only thing she could. The only thing that wouldn't have killed an innocent child seeing her parents'—her family's murderer for the first time in her life, living a comfortable life with the Purple Dragon of Legend.

She brought her head down, aimed all six of her horns at the fast-approaching dragon girl. No, not six horns. Three more ran down from the back of her head to her cervical spine. She lowered them, facing Kilat to tank her blow head-on, even as the dragoness rushed with electricity surrounding her.

They clashed.

Cynder hissed from pain as she struggled, resisting the urge to succumb to the amperes of electricity running rampant in her body. But she held. Nine ivory towers held steadfast against the battery ram. The dragoness's tail lashed out at the child, but even after seeing this unfold before his eyes, Joshua Renalia was not concerned with any potential injuries. Cynder aimed for Kilat's foreleg, hoping to incapacitate. Give her a wound bad enough to slow her down, maybe stop her movements, but not so severe that it'd maim her.

Joshua Renalia was not worrying about Cynder or Kilat.

Joshua Renalia was worrying about the crowd surrounding them.

The pulses of life once again fluctuated, increasingly volatile as the Electric dragoness rushed Cynder, proclaiming both her loyalty to Joshua and her recognition of the former Terror of the Skies as a heinous criminal who's escaped justice by association.

"The child's attacking the _demon_!" a resident spoke.

"So she's not under a spell?"

"Maybe the Dark Master's not involved after all…"

"But he's still an Ape! We can't ignore that."

Kilat swiped at Cynder, yellow trailing her claws. The black dragoness skipped back to avoid the attack and attempted to incapacitate the child as gently as possible, this time deciding to pounce on her as Rimeer had earlier done. Kilat saw this coming and slipped underneath Cynder, rolling and bouncing back up facing her, electricity pooling again in between her teeth.

Joshua thought it was the Electric Orb again.

It turned out to be something else entirely. A blast of yellow light streamed from the child's mouth, striking Cynder's chest when she turned around just in time to receive the hit in full force. The electricity burned through her scales, through her skin. "Arrrgh!" she screamed, for once feeling something strong enough to hurt her—to _paralyze _her. Cynder, a living legend. The second savior. The Heroine of the Dragon Realms.

Joshua Renalia was floored. He didn't want to see his idol attacked like this. Not by someone he cared about.

"That's the Zap Cannon!" An electric dragon among the guards eyed her, amazed. He was older than the Saviors. A young adult. "What is she, a **prodigy**? Volteer hasn't taught that to his candidates yet!"

Cynder's voice dragged Spyro the Dragon out of his astonished stupor. "Someone help her!" Purple eyes flared. "Quickly, before she's hurt!"

One of the few dragons among the immigrants cheered. It was a child, perhaps a few years older than Kilat herself. "WOOOOOOH! Go! Rip her to shreds. MAKE HER **PAY**!"

The lone supporter stirred the crowd. It stoked feelings of justice, of retribution. The emotions they kept hidden in a closet, the unspent anger at getting back at Cynder for slaughtering families, for murdering dragons, for leading the Apes' constant victories in the name of Malefor—for _being_ the Terror of the Skies, rose anew.

Residents forgot Cynder's role in ending the war. Immigrants held onto their inner hate tightly, and soon enough cheers of support soared, shouting, yelling in happy tones every time Kilat went on the offensive.

"Yeah!"

"Send that demon to hell with her master!"

"JUSTICE! WE WANT JUSTICE!"

"Spirits, what are you waiting for, young dragon? Kill her."

"YEAH, **KILL HER**!"

A dissenter dared to speak. "What's wrong with all of you? She saved the world too! She shouldn't—

The voice gurgled, as if fluid bubbled and frothed in the mouth.

Spyro had enough of this. Someone had already died. "Guards!" he spoke, eyes focused on Cynder and Kilat as opposed to the human teenager. Joshua admired Cynder all the more, for the way she restrained herself from using any of her elements or the more ferocious of her moves to avoid hurting an angry, but powerful child. "Break them up now. Stop the fight before someone else gets hurt!"

His words sowed chaos.

"What is wrong with you? Can't you see she's getting what she deserves?"

"You're the Purple Dragon. The legendary Hero! How couldn't you even finish the job with the Dark Master's **thrall**?"

Spyro roared at the cloud of people surrounding them, at the various species of moles, cheetahs, dragonflies, manweersmalls, atlawas, and the uncommon dragons. "She's _already_ done everything to make up for her past!" He couldn't pinpoint the speaker.

An adolescent Ice dragon yelled at him. "You're just trying to cover up the fact the devil's got your wings all tied up around her!"

"Yeah, _everyone _knows you're smitten with her!"

"You know what I think of your love for that"—a disgusted snort—"little devil?"

A stone struck Spyro in the head.

Fruits and vegetables were also sent flying his way, followed by farming tools.

Wads of spit even flew in his direction.

The Purple Dragon growled again. "The Guardians decreed her absolution—

His words reaped chaos.

"That means nothing! The Guardians don't represent our city!"

"This is what **we** think."

"This is what we **feel**!"

"She killed my brother."

"She killed my mother!"

A manweersmall yelled, "She worked my friends to death!"

"Someone help the poor child before Malefor's devil stops toying with her!"

Four adult dragons took to the air, split evenly between Earth and Electricity. "We're on it!"

Another voice floated from the crowd. "Don't forget the furless Ape! If he's not with the Dark Master, then he's with Caesar!"

"Catch him."

"Interrogate him."

"Make him suffer!"

Spyro panned his eyes across the guards available at his disposal. There were over 30, over 40, maybe. They could still contain this madness before it spread. "Everyone! Hold them off. **Stop** them! Don't let them hurt Cynder." His golden wings snapped open, flapping thrice before he himself took to the air. "I'm handling this _personally_."

Infernus grumbled, taking wing as well. "You heard the Savior." He raised his paw, making a circle as he referenced the crowd. "Hold the line!" Every guard around the Tenth Candidate for the Fire Guardian fell under his authority. They unsheathed their weapons. Those with shields held them in front. All sprinted to contain the burgeoning riot before the people scattered into the fray, keeping them away from Kilat, from Cynder, even from Joshua Renalia.

The few dragons responding to the call of duty charged into position. They did not fly, not wanting to obstruct Spyro's midair combat. Weak breaths of flames and ice were thrust into the crowd, aiming to disperse the violent groups—to weaken their resolve. To dismantle the collective anger and suspicion. Electric and Earth dragons stood tall behind the line, eyes alert, ready to send a stone or a weak jolt of electricity to an unruly civilian.

Among the four dragons flying directly to assist Kilat, one balked at the sight of the Purple Dragon of Legend himself taking wing to meet them in combat. But the life signature compressed itself into a ball of cold steel as Spyro spat multiple icicles at the group.

_F*ck me!_ The whole situation rapidly descended into a mess. Joshua's mind drew blanks, his rational thoughts overtaken more and more by instinct, by the overwhelming fear of absolute death. _F*ck me, f*ck me, f*ck me, f*ck me! _This wasn't supposed to happen.

The whole situation should have been resolved by now. How did this devolve into a brawl to kill both him _and_ Cynder? It didn't make sense to him. It would **never** make sense to him.

Two life pulses splintered away from the crowd of guards, headed straight for the combat between Kilat and the black dragoness. He turned and followed them, focusing not on the small group approaching him but on two cheetahs clad in armor. The human determined their intent the moment they pulled their swords out of the scabbards, eyes and body brimming malevolently with opportunity and vengeance.

Goddammit! There had to be something he could do. A human armed with a stick and can barely fend for himself against wild animals was no match for two well-trained soldiers. There must be something—

The Ice Dragon Rimeer rose from his haunches. On all four legs he trotted—he broke into a full sprint, his direction aimed not at the wall of guards blocking the crowd, not at the two cheetahs breaking formation, but at Cynder and Kilat herself. He roared angrily. "I've been waiting years for this moment! **YEARS**!"

Rimeer lifted his cerulean snout and fired a massive orb of ice at the air. Joshua watched it lob, watched it gradually approach his great heroine and the dragon he was on the verge of calling his little sister. He recognized it instantly as Polar Bomb. An Ice technique from _The Eternal Night_.

"Ancestors! What are you doing?" Spyro called after him, the offended tone of betrayal and shock impregnating the Purple Dragon. Joshua couldn't blame him. He just watched a dragon _among the city guards_ assault his beloved. The legendary Hero of the Dragon Realms veered to intercept the Ice Dragon, only to swerve back to evade boulders, green light, and the occasional Electric Orb being shot at him. "Cynder, Incomi—

He ducked, his wings almost clipped by one of the four dragons. The dogfight began anew.

Joshua, in the meantime, hyperventilated as he ran towards the center—to Kilat and Cynder. In the second game, Spyro's Polar Bombs merely froze enemies, temporarily. What effect would an **adult dragon**'s Polar Bomb have on another? He didn't want to think of it. Joshua refused to imagine his dear little Kilat receiving such a potent attack. Shit. He couldn't let that hit. He mustn't!

All rational thought left him at that moment, automatically allowing his awareness to extend beyond his own body. He extended his left hand, palm stretched. He wished so badly that he could just reach out and stop the Polar Bomb from ever landing, from hurting a hero he worshipped and potentially snuffing the Electric dragoness clouded with hate.

He wanted to help, or else it'd make things a lot worse for everyone. For **him**.

Then he felt it. A weak pulse of energy, of _life_ curving the air with Rimeer's Polar Bomb. Joshua Renalia concentrated on it and blocked out _everything_, because he wanted to do something. **Anything**! He felt the frigid temperature of the Ice Element tickle his hand as he clutched the empty air, meters away from its danger.

He poured his consciousness—inserted his self-awareness into the Ice Dragon's glorified spitball, until he, too, felt the cold. Until he felt his ego boundaries encompass the flying sphere. Until he became one with it. Joshua Renalia spotted the two cheetahs closing in, and it seemed they wouldn't care if the Electric dragoness got in their way.

With a powerful grunt and an equally powerful desire to prevent tragedy, he clenched his hand and wrenched it away. He flogged the air in the felines' general direction. To his immense surprise, Rimeer's Polar Bomb literally stopped in midair, right before Cynder's eyes as she turned, heeding Spyro's warning. It stayed still for a split-second before it changed direction on its own, impelled by an external power.

Cynder gasped at the sight she had never seen before in her life. An Element stopped in its own tracks, a moment before striking her in the back. Her life signature went still from astonishment. Green eyes widened, watching as the Polar Bomb flew on its own, guided without a dragon's direction. It soared. It crashed into two cheetahs approaching her from the other side with unsheathed swords, glaring at **her**. Snow and freezing mist engulfed both, rendering the two unconscious as their furry bodies shut down in response to the deep cold.

Joshua's enhanced hearing, a gift of his enigmatic Element, assured he heard the dragoness gasp. "By the Ancestors, it just flew, on its, i-its own."

Joshua sensed Kilat quickly catching up to her. "Cynder, behind you!"

Cynder glanced in his direction once—uncertainty pooled in her eyes—before his message registered almost too late. She turned, and instantly lowered her head to once again tank Kilat's violent charge. But Cynder had no time to dig in, to entrench her footing. Without the proper posture and stance—without a lower center of gravity, the black dragoness slid—no, she went **airborne**, knocked back by the child's unstoppable momentum.

Right into Rimeer's waiting paws.

Kilat was riveted by so much anger, she did not even bother expressing surprise that the Ice Dragon guarding the Gates, the f*cking **bastard** that started this **entire f*cking mess** was helping her for reasons known only to him. He was right on top of Cynder. He sneered at her before swiping at her. Claws of ice struck her cheek, almost slashed through her neck. Red ichor fell to the ground. Blue mana imbued with the Ice Element trailed Rimeer's every move. Then the blade of his tail started to glow. The adult dug in his forelegs and jumped, twisting to the side so he could knock Cynder to the ground with his rump and slash her throat with an impromptu tail blade before the black dragoness could respond.

A fatal move, meant to disorient and kill.

A move that took all of Cynder's experience to evade.

Forced into actual combat, the former Terror of the Skies sunk into tangible, ebon smoke the instant she hit the ground.

"**RIMEER!**" Spyro snarled angrily.

The Purple Dragon of Legend spun in the air as he flew, creating a cyclone marked by shards of sharpened icicles, chilly gusts, and blinding snow. One of the four dragons in his midair battle went down, only for one of the remaining three to flank him. An Earth Dragon sporting two different shades of green created a ball of solid green energy from its mouth. The Earth Flail, a technique seen only in _A New Beginning_. He twirled in the air with enough force and struck Spyro, interrupting his moves.

But Joshua Renalia saw none of this. Instead his own emerald gaze was transfixed to his left hand. He did that? Did he seriously just do that? He attacked the cheetahs with the Ice element. He _plucked_ the Polar Bomb out of the air. He _redirected_ it to his intended targets. He, he actually** manipulated **another Element, and the worst part of it was, he** couldn't remember **how he did it.

Leave it to an idiot like himself to do something when he wasn't paying attention!

Curiosity did not overwhelm Joshua Renalia. Fear did. Terror did. This was not his fantasy, to be turned into a plaything of a powerful Element, one even a geek as knowledgeable with _Spyro_ lore as him did not—could not understand.

But amid the din he heard Kilat snarling angrily. He remembered where he was. What was happening. He still had so much to do before he would be granted the peace to investigate the Unknown Element, and everything else lurking behind it. Yet just as Joshua focused on Cynder, Rimeer, and Kilat—just as he decided to go over, stop Kilat, stop this stupid fight, and bring this godforsaken mess back to simple conversation, the human being realized a group of at least ten people had snuck up behind him during his dazed torpor.

He heard the swing of a weapon coming behind him.

Joshua looked back and saw a sickle coming his way. He rotated and backpedaled to avoid it at the last second. He brought his ironwood walking stick up to deflect it if he couldn't.

In the end, he was too slow. Too inexperienced. Too _green_.

The blade dug into his armpit as he gyrated. It almost hit an artery. "AGGHH!" he shrieked, feeling the farming implement cut through. No HP crystals within reach. His Element reported the nearest Spirit Gem was about fifteen paces away, and he didn't have the time to even check if it was a red one to begin with.

Joshua grimaced, cupping his side. Blood flowed profusely. Ten moles glared at him, with their beady eyes and their buck-toothed snouts. They came for him. Of these ten farmers, one had a sword in its hands. Perhaps stolen from one of the guards.

They all attacked.

Joshua brought his stick to bear. He parried the sickle and the sword as much as he could. Many of the tools they used did not cut, but _smashed_. The stick in his hands felt close to shattering, weathering every blow non-stop. But the human being could not stop everything coming at him. He protected his head with his left arm, and instead of having his head crushed into paste, the limb **broke**. Fractured bones brought intense pain, magnified enough by his Element to make him **stop in place**.

"OH F*CK—

One of the moles bashed his leg in with a sledgehammer. The bone also fractured, and down Joshua Renalia went.

The mole with the sword dashed to him, lifting his sword, fully intending to impale Joshua's head through his eyes.

"No-no-no-no, **no**!" Joshua did the only thing he could and raised his stick. He then swiped at the group with his stick, hoping to parry.

Yet all ten opponents saw the attack coming. They slowed down, waiting for Joshua's last-minute attempt to repulse a finishing blow to pass by undeterred and offer them an opportunity to disarm the furless ape for good and end him.

None of them expected a white, crescent-shaped blade of light to materialize in its wake. It hurtled towards them, moving at a speed so fast they barely had the time to register its sudden appearance. All ten were struck, and all fell instantly. It bypassed clothes. It bypassed armor.

It bypassed **everything** they wore.

Rather than ten dead moles, the mob was simply reduced to a groaning, sniveling mess. They vomited collectively. Some defecated in their pants. None could stand. None could move. They could only wriggle and squirm and roll back and forth in their own filth.

"W-w-w-w, w-what did he do?"

"My, m-my legs! I can't feel my legs!"

"I feel—BLEH!"

"The world's gone upside-down! Where's, where's the furless ape?"

"Can't walk. Everything, topsy-turvy. Feel, like hurling. Entire… body, in shambles. Numb. Numb _everywhere_."

"Black magic!" A random civilian from the distance screamed. "The ape's using black magic!"

"He really **IS** a servant of the Dark Master!"

Fifteen paces were too far for someone with a broken leg and on the verge of bleeding out. Remembering what he saw in the farmers' fields earlier today, Joshua Renalia dove into the barf-coated grass, making sure to avoid getting any of the foul fluids on him. He endured the revolting smells to pat down each and every one of the moles curled within his reach, unable to get up. It took almost a minute before he found a large fragment of a Red Spirit Gem in a pocket.

It was intact. And it was active.

It began to gray out as soon as he grabbed it. Yet as soon as it started healing him, Joshua Renalia felt the potency had been diluted. Was there a consequence for using the Spirit Gems too much, too soon? He scavenged the groaning, incapacitated moles for some more HP crystals, but this time around he paid significantly more attention to everything around him, lest more opportunists try to take his head and succeed.

Joshua Renalia found enough Spirit Gems to mend his bones. He almost bit his tongue off, stifling the girly scream trying to ram its way out of his throat. Healing **hurt** like a bitch. His skin prickled as it grew back. His own bones cracked, scrunched, and sizzled as the power of the Ancestors reset them, accelerating regrowth and renewal alike.

As soon as his leg felt good enough to walk, the _Spyro_ fanboy swapped his stick for the sledgehammer, recognizing the ironwood comprising the handle. It was a reasonable upgrade, one that wasn't too much heavier than the walking stick he'd had since the Dry Canyon. Then he walked away from the ten moles, walking towards the Cynder and Kilat. Kilat's life pulse was easily recognizable, giving him the impression of buoyant bubbles fizzing in a carbonated drink. Cynder's, even more so, if only for the fact he felt a strange "taint"—a _wrongness_—permeating the Heroine. _Traces of Malefor's alterations, maybe?_

Joshua Renalia smashed in two clusters of HP and Mana crystals and absorbed them. "Hm, so the effects got weaker," he observed, the difference in the red Spirit Gem's temporary healing factor apparent. Once again, another anomaly the video games never addressed.

While closing in on the child, adolescent, and adult dragons fighting, Joshua Renalia watched Cynder dodge another direct attack from Kilat. She inhaled and released a powerful breath, imbued with one of her four Elements. A powerful gust of wind shot out before the Electric dragoness could react, slamming into the child. She was sent flying back. Far enough to the point Joshua could now reach her if he started running **right now**.

And ran he did.

He ran.

Ran as Cynder sunk beneath the shadows once more in reply to Rimeer's ice breath inundating the space in her general direction. The Savior moved quickly in the darkness, reappearing behind the Ice dragon in mere **seconds**. It took all of Joshua's self-control not to shudder as _Dawn of the Dragon_ came to life in front of him. Like in the games, Cynder shot out of the smoke pooling beneath the adult's four paws.

The dark puddle became jagged spikes, penetrating Rimeer's underside in several areas. The black dragoness did not hesitate, returning the guard's insidious betrayal in spades. She flew and pounced on his rump, raking her shadow-empowered claws across it. The Ice Dragon roared from agony.

"No," Cynder uttered. "Not yet. I am not done **yet**, _traitor_!"

Rimeer made an attempt to fly, to buck her off before she could do any more. Cynder reacted instantly, leaping from Rimeer's posterior. She reared her right claw, her wings, and her tail, coated them in green liquid, and as soon as she got within striking distance of the adult's neck, swiped at him. The corrosive poison on her claws and its brute strength shattered the back of his helmet. The fingers of her magenta wings softened him up, weakening the azure scales. Her tail was the final blow, slicing through Rimeer's skin and injecting poison directly into the dragon's bloodstream.

The venom was potent enough to act immediately; Rimeer fell and stopped moving. But he was far from dead. The Unknown Element told him that much. Cynder clearly knocked him out and ensured his recovery would be agonizing until someone gave him the appropriate Spirit Gem.

"Infernus," Joshua heard her call.

No reaction from the Guardian Candidate.

"Infernus!"

No reaction again. The Fire Dragon swooped low, sending a massive breath of fire to placate the crowd rioting all around them.

"INFERNUS!"

Cynder gave up at the third attempt, an affronted expression forming on her muzzle. "Ancestors, I hate that dragon."

"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Her head turned to the voice. Roaring, Kilat ran towards her again. She sprinted on all fours. No longer did she use her Element. Whether she ran out of mana or conserved it for close quarters, the Electric dragoness stormed angrily, her round cobalt eyes reduced to nothing more than frightening slits. Cynder sighed, reaching into her large stores of mana to conjure her Wind Element—

"Damn it, Kilat! NO!" To her surprise—to _Kilat's_ surprise, Joshua Renalia caught up to the livid child and, in one wild gambit, lunged. Dropping his sledgehammer, he tackled the young dragoness to the ground, wrapping his lean arms tight. Her scent—a faint smell of lavender—wafted into his nose as the boy rapidly clenched his embrace and rolled.

Kilat's four paws went airborne. The growl she released was so unlike her it terrified Joshua, reminding him of the Death Hounds that have nearly eaten him alive. "It's me, Kilat. It's me! Joshua!"

She did not turn her muzzle towards him. How could she even hear the desperation, the fright in his voice when the little girl concentrated **only** on the dragoness who was once the infamous Terror of the Skies? "She killed my family! She killed **Lani's** family! She _destroyed_ my **home**. Now she wants to get rid of you too!" She yelled at him. "Let me go! I need to protect you."

"I need to make her **pay**!" Then she tried to bite his fingers. "Joshua, I said let go of me—

"**NO!**" he raised his voice. "No, I **f*cking** won't. You won't hurt Cynder, you hear me? Stop attacking her! **STOP IT**! Don't you **dare** raise a claw at her."

Kilat froze.

Only now did the child turn her muzzle towards the human. Joshua's heart almost broke at the sight of Kilat's tears streaming out her eyes. "Why?" she asked. "Why, Joshua? Why, why are you siding with that **butcher**?"

"Because it won't do anything," he reasoned. "Because it won't bring any of them back."

"I don't care! I just want, I just want"—she sniffled.—"I-I-I, I just wanna hurt her! Until I'm happy!"

"That's not fair to Cynder. You—

"Not fair?" she shouted at him, right to his face. "**NOT FAIR?** You **know **what she did to me! To Lani! To _everyone_! You'll just let her get away with this?"

"You don't understand—

"She worked **for** Malefor, and **enjoyed **it! Ancestors, there's _nothing _to understand—

He sensed Cynder approaching them. Spyro had downed another dragon, and Infernus had decided to join him. Chaos ruled the land outside the walls of Warfang, as the riot devolved into a maelstrom, clashing with both the guards and each other.

God damn them all, he didn't have time for this crybaby shit! This mess needed to be resolved before it got any worse.

"Shit, Kilat, I can't deal with this right now!"

"Ehhhhh!"

"Eeeeeehhhhhh!"

The disappointment and acrimony settling in her eyes couldn't be any more damning. She whined, "Ehhh, Joshuaaaaaa..."

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph!" he groaned. "Cynder's **not** an enemy. Don't attack her again!"

For the first time since they became friends, the dragoness growled. She snarled, baring her teeth at the human. A wordless protest. A _rebellion_.

Joshua Renalia suppressed all the dread shooting up at the sight of the child's jagged teeth. Fearlessly he brought his hand to the back of her head. Slowly he leaned up and kissed Kilat on the snout, between her nostrils. It was the first time he ever performed this gesture of love while she was awake. Her life signature rippled. She was perplexed; it had been her first time experiencing this. "**Please**," Joshua entreated. "Trust me." He brought her forehead down to his, dredging one of the oddest things he's ever heard her say to him. It couldn't have made more sense in any other context. "I have your neck, Kilat. Just listen to me." The boy stroked the back of her head, again and again. "I'm _begging_ you."

The dragon child withered on top of him. She sobbed. Kilat's voice was a medley of confusion, of grief, of resentment. "Why? Why are you doing this? I, I don't—I don't know what's going on in your head. I want to bite you so much but I, I—

He shushed her. "I'll explain when we get out of this," he said. "I promise. Okay?"

"…okay…"

The young man sat up. He found Cynder watching them, her pulse bearing the signs of fading volatility. She herself had calmed only recently, perhaps realizing Joshua did not pose an immediate threat. "Thank you," Cynder verbalized. She couldn't be more grateful.

He held onto Kilat a little more tightly. He didn't trust her enough not to go berserk again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anything about her family."

Joshua got to his feet, arms still clasped around the Electric dragoness. Cynder backed away, life signature tensing up. Her wariness did not escape him. _Right. _If this was truly his fantasy, the Savior wouldn't have responded this way. Her eyes wouldn't have narrowed from distrust.

The human teenager slowly turned around. He deliberately showed his back to Cynder. "I just knew she was a war orphan. I've always thought it was just the Apes that made her this way." He needed to show the Heroine who saved the Dragon Realms with Spyro that he trusted her.

He shifted Kilat in his arms and picked up the hefty sledgehammer from the grass. A Red Spirit Gem had been growing next to it. _Man, the Ancestors work __**fast**__._ He plowed the weapon into the brittle crystals. "Here," he said, kicking the shards towards Cynder. "I know you need it. Sorry, I would've carried them over to you, but if I put my hands on them I'll end up absorbing the energy."

In turn, he needed her to understand she could trust him, too. He certainly didn't want her as an enemy.

"Like a dragon," she muttered.

"Yes. Just like a dragon."

"That's impossible."

Joshua snorted. "I told myself the same thing."

He eyeballed the surroundings. In truth, he and Cynder didn't have much space. The guards were beginning to contain the madness of the crowd, with the most troublesome among them unconscious or being brought into the city. Spyro and Infernus have taken down the third dragon together, and it was probably a matter of time before the both of them joined the black dragoness. _And knowing Infernape, he probably poisoned Spyro with his bullshit about me._

Joshua had two minutes to get Cynder on his side. Three, at most.

"At least you're reasonable," she said. Cynder cocked her head towards the thinning crowd. "Not like those idiots over there. Plenty of them in Warfang."

Kilat stiffened, growing anxious. Joshua fought the instinct to step back when Cynder decided to cross the five-foot chasm separating them. She walked over to the human, who had to raise his head to maintain eye contact with his personal hero. Cynder brought her muzzle close to his face and sniffed him. Twice.

"You have her scent." Her breath was as foul as Kilat's. It was official. Dragons had no concept of dental hygiene in the _Legend_ continuity.

"Yeah. I ran into Kilat at the Dry Canyon, on the way here. She was alone, dying. I—well, it's a long story, but I didn't have it in my heart to let her be. I started taking care of her after we met. Mistook me for an Ape at first, but, I can't really blame her."

"Do you—

He nodded, anticipating her question. "She's looking for her relatives. Also wants to learn more about her family if she can." Joshua leaned down and nuzzled the child's head. She did not return the gesture as she used to. _Still angry_. _Clearly has no plans of talking. _"I know that she'll _at least_ have a much better life here in the city." He sighed. "Me, I'm actually here for the Guardians. Hmmmmm, probably Volteer if I had to be specific."

"Why?" she asked, assessing him.

"I, I need help," he finally confessed. Joshua deflated at the thought of his conundrum. "I _desperately_ need help, and I believe—I **know **they're the only ones I can turn to."

"Is it that bad?"

"Potentially. I'm _stumped _at what's happening to me. I don't know what it means; I'm praying the Guardians will know something."

"Hmm, I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

"Let me put it in this context. Imagine Spyro suddenly capable of breathing Wind and Shadow just like you. He'd have a lot of questions about himself and what that may lead to."

She put the puzzle pieces together faster than he expected. "So something's bothering you, you need help to cope with it, and you want to know if it also means anything more than what it is."

Cynder sat on her haunches. That only brought her head level with his, and he was still standing! "That sums it up about right."

Green eyes ogled him. "So where are you from?" Ah, was she probing him now? For information on other hidden dragon settlements?

"Kilat's from a village of foxes and, another species I can't remember. She was raised there as an orphan. It's isolated, from what little I know, so she didn't know much about the war until three dragons dropped by the village."

"And that's when she decided to move to Warfang?"

"I suppose. _Obviously s_he didn't tell me everything. But I think those dragons **are** **from** a settlement. A shame they died just before Kilat and I met."

That Cynder did not take the bait stunned Joshua. "And what about you?"

"Me? What about me?"

"Apes don't just 'take care' of dragons, especially if they're alone and dying, Joshua," she explained. "I know that's what you did, but I've **never** heard of an ape species that does that."

"Other humans would've helped her," Joshua countered. "We, we don't like it when we see someone suffering."

That piqued her interest. "Warfang will want friends like that. Where is the nearest human city?"

Shit. She just _had_ to ask about his origins. "I don't think it'll be on any of your maps," he deflected. Damn it, what was he going to tell her? How far he was from home that he no longer knew where he was? How his cities probably did not exist on this planet at all?

"We're updating our maps every month," she retorted.

F*ck. He couldn't give her the story he told Kilat. That was just stupid. It would only fool a child like her. Adults, even adolescents, would definitely be far too perceptive. But he couldn't go back on what he told the golden child in the first place, not when she was awake and listening. "Trust me," he lied. "If you haven't met us yet, then we're just too far away to—

To his relief, Sparx's voice cut him off. "Hey, Baldie!"

Joshua eyed the dragonfly coming to him directly. Spyro's adoptive brother must've figured it was safest, staying near Cynder and the "furless ape", as everyone else called him, since they weren't fighting at all. "I'm not bald, damn it!"

"No fur, little hair. That's bald in my book."

Joshua rolled his eyes. "What, ever."

"Look, you ape—hoo-man—thing! I saw you take down those moles. You made some sort of white light appear and suddenly they all fell **sick**." Sparx buzzed around him, perplexed. "And before that, I watched you reach out to that ice cube, before it hit Miss Grouchy here in the face."

Cynder frowned. "Sparx, call me that again and I'm keeping you **in** my mouth for an **hour**. I'll show _you_ grouchy." She stuck her tongue out to make a point.

The dragonfly shuddered at the display, then flew to Joshua's other ear. The distance, he must've hoped, kept him out of Cynder's immediate reach. "Baldie—

"I _also_ have a name, you know."

Sparx kept going on. "You made that ball of ice change direction. You made it **hit **the two cats trying to get the jump on Miss"—Cynder glared.—"On her."

"Wait a second!" The black dragoness jumped. "That was _you_? **You're** the one who saved me from that Polar Bomb?"

"Yeah, it was. That damn dragon's the reason this madness started in the first place. Like hell I was going to let him—

"B-but, how? **How**? You, you can't control someone else's Element! That's just not possible."

"I thought so, too," Joshua admitted sheepishly, before chuckling. "Cynder, remember that problem I needed help with?" She nodded, acknowledging him. "It's related to that. There's—

His time was up.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Anger undulated from a vivacious pulse of life flying swiftly towards him.

Joshua Renalia moved. Good Lord, how he **moved**. He broke into a short sprint and leaped into the air, the sudden move stunning both Sparx and Cynder.

Had he been late for even a moment, Joshua would've been dead by now, everything from his chest up crushed into paste. Spyro the Dragon appeared right where he'd been in a flashy display of flames, scorching heat, and a powerful boom. The sheer force of his disruptive appearance sent Joshua sprawling to the ground. Kilat herself was flung out of his embrace.

Joshua cursed, "What the f*ck!"

"Spyro!" Cynder chided. "What're you _doing_? He wasn't doing anything—

"Just because he's not doing anything doesn't mean that furless ape isn't a _threat_."

Joshua picked himself up from the ground, grabbing his new hammer. "You, y-you got to be kidding me." He was right about to say something in reply when he glimpsed the hostile glower Spyro the Dragon was sending him. He withered beneath it. Where was the kindness? Where was the empathy? Where was the Spyro who'd talk and give others a chance first?

"You didn't need to be so violent," Cynder reproached, as equally shocked as the human. "You could've killed him!"

"That was the plan." Spyro remarked coldly. Then the Purple Dragon of Legend stepped forward. He planted himself between him and his loved ones. A green glow—the light of the Earth Element illuminated his pink maw.

Yet Spyro's hostility was not the only problem.

"See? What did I tell you? This Ape works for Malefor!"

Green eyes widened as the vermilion dragon swooped into view. Infernus rained fireballs at him from above, while Spyro spewed orbs of Earth—boulders—like bullets. As much as he detested the Guardian Candidate, he had a precise aim; Joshua would've been dead if he hadn't already been following his and Spyro's attacks with his unique Element.

"What?" Cynder exclaimed. "**No**! Joshua's not—

"On a first-name basis already, I see," cackled the Fire Dragon. "Consider yourself lucky we got here before he could corrupt you!"

Spyro's delusion was worse than he thought. Joshua Renalia ogled the Infernus hatefully. "Infernape, you f*cking bastard!" He evaded another volley of attacks, sidestepping in time to evade a boulder before it crushed his leg. Joshua lunged out of the way of a fire breath coming from above, heart palpitating madly. "I'm trying to resolve this **peacefully**! How could you loop Spyro in with your—

The Hero of the Dragon Realms did not let him talk. He switched to Electricity and, at a speed much faster—more efficient than Kilat, hurled a chain of Electric Orbs at him. Driven by emotion—by instinct—by his own anger towards that damnable fraud of a Guardian Candidate, he latched onto one of the glowing, yellow spheres as he did with Rimeer's Polar Bomb and, as he ran sideways in an attempt to dodge Spyro's attacks, chucked his hand towards a spot he cannot see.

The precise location of Infernus's pulse of life.

One of the Electric Orbs abruptly changed direction. It careened towards Infernus, catching the Fire Dragon off-guard when it struck, when he received the attack in full. The tiny globe burst into a massive sphere of lightning, causing the paranoid bastard to fall from the sky, paralyzed long enough to crash into the ground.

"By the Ancestors!" Cynder yelped, completely astonished.

Spyro growled angrily. He began cycling through all four of his Elements. Balls of fire. Mortars of ice. Flying boulders. Blasts of compressed electricity.

Not once did Joshua Renalia go on the offensive. "Spyro!" he pleaded. "Don't!"—he eluded a fireball—"I just want to talk"—he barely slipped past an icicle, receiving a cut along his arm—"Shit! I'm not here to hurt anyone! Spyro, forget what f*cking Infernape said. I just need your—

A glowing rock flew at him just as he avoided another Element. Too fast. It was moving too fast! Spyro must have entered Dragon Time to sneak in this attack, and the human had no other recourse but to get his arm broken rather than his head. In a blind panic he raised the hammer, placed his arm directly behind the handle, and made an attempt to block—to deflect the projectile. He prayed to God it wouldn't snap—to his immense shock, the rock was sent to the ground instantly. It didn't even hurt him.

But another boulder landed, right on his solar plexus. Joshua Renalia collapsed in a heap as all the air rushed out of his lungs. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and he saw a fireball coming right for him. "Oh my God!" The teenager raised his arm again, tried to recall what he'd done twice now, tried to **think**.

He moved his hand, expecting to redirect the fiery ball of death away.

He failed.

Joshua screeched in utter fear and rolled in a last-ditch attempt to get away from ground zero—

Flames burst close, too close to Joshua. His clothes were set ablaze. **He** was on fire! Intense agony erupted over every bit of him the fire lapped, the fire consumed. The teenager rolled, frantically patting down the conflagration before it spread. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—

Another blast thundered in his ears.

Earth once again came his way. Joshua Renalia made another attempt to redirect it, and he failed again. His own Element refused him. _Damn it!_

The human gaped at the rock as it approached him. He realized in the back of his mind that this was it. He was going to die right at the Gates of Warfang, slain not by a wild animal, not by a bigoted retard, but by his own hero, deceived by a ruthless paranoiac.

"Don't touch my brother!" Kilat skated in front of him. She skid to a stop, and used her horns to obstruct the boulder. It shattered on impact, yet the child hissed from pain. Enduring an attack from the Purple Dragon? That couldn't have been painless.

"Kilat! Thank God—

"I'm still angry at you," he heard the little girl say. "But I don't want to see you die." She turned to him, her cobalt eyes wavering between anxiety and outrage. Kilat was just as conflicted, just as tense as he was. He wanted to hug her, to bury his face in her golden scales. "You've got Spirit Gems growing next to you. Hurry up and use 'em!"

Joshua gulped and did not answer, doing exactly as she told him. He wondered why the Ancestors were helping him, but he'd rather not look a gift horse in the mouth at this point.

"No. Spyro, **no**!"

The Hero roared. "Cynder, get out of the way!"

"He's not even trying to attack you!"

Sparx hovered close. "Hate to say it, brother, but she's got you there."

"You too, Sparx?" Spyro glanced between him and his beloved. "Didn't you see what the ape did? He _used _my attacks to shoot Infernus down. He **repelled **one of my rocks with his **bare arms**." He was confounded, unable to comprehend why Sparx and Cynder were stopping him. "And look! Look at him now. He's _using_ the Spirit Gems—

"Just like a dragon," Cynder said. Joshua would not be able to see her muzzle, but her life pulse shrunk a little as she spoke.

"You, you know about—

"He was explaining his situation to me **before **you two interrupted us!" she frowned. "He's here to see us. He wants to talk to the Guardians! Because he needs our help."

"But, b-but Infernus told me he's an agent of Malefor. What if he's—

"Since **when **have you been listening to that guy?" Sparx cut him off. "He's got a thick stick up his tailhole. I thought you hated him."

"If it has _anything_ to do with the Dark Master, I'm **not** taking any chances."

"Just look at him," Sparx retaliated. He gestured towards Kilat and Joshua, and the human looked like he was about to piss in his own pants "He looks more like a sheep scared out of its wits. Does **that** look like someone serving the Dark Master to you? I know he looks just like one of those new apes, but he's, he's kind of sociable and"—he sighed—"maaaan, this just isn't like you, Spyro! What's gotten into you?"

Cynder padded to the Purple Dragon. She nuzzled him. "Dear, look, listen to me. Give Joshua a chance. Let him speak. We, we don't need any—

"It is infinitely better to destroy an unhatched egg before anything within spreads death and destruction across the lands." Infernus quivered as he arose on all four paws. He ogled Joshua, his stare boiling with the vehemence of a true Fire Dragon. "He **is** working for the Dark Master. We must kill him before he masters that strange power. It has the mark of **evil**."

The former Terror of the Skies glowered at the Guardian Candidate. "Infernus, stay out of this. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Spyro, your mate has been compromised. Listen to **me**."

Both Cynder and Infernus scowled. Hate from one and condescension, if not distrust, from the other. "_Compromised_? I **know** what I'm saying, you stupid—

A boisterous roar shattered the conversation. The Electric dragoness surged towards them, running at the fastest she could've ever done. "Shut up, Infernape! Stop talking. Ancestors, this is **all** your fault. Joshua's hurt because of **YOU**!" Electricity enveloped Kilat, crackling as she tore across the gap between them with force and power.

The golden girl gathered a potent amount of electricity in her snout. In a second she unleashed the yellow beam of Zap Cannon at the Guardian Candidate himself.

But Infernus took to the skies with the grace and speed of an experienced flyer. Her attack missed, landing a little too close to the guards pointing their weapons at the crowd, having successfully contained them at last after their numbers were thinned and the troublemakers arrested.

He dove towards Kilat, moving faster than she could react. Before she or Joshua knew it, he was right above her. The Guardian Candidate did not hesitate to swat the little girl aside, putting all his strength and his Element into the attack. Kilat smashed into a tree at least a hundred meters in the distance, well past the line of guards and the mobbing crowd.

She was down.

"KILAT!" Joshua clamored, scared. Terrified for her life. He turned to Infernus, not knowing a white glow had begun to cover his hands. "F*ck you! **She's** **just a child**! You're a candidate for the next Fire Guardian! How _could_ you do that? Are you a _fraud_? Jesus Christ, **why**?"

"I put the little girl out of her misery," Infernus stated. "When she wakes up, she will be happy to learn she is no longer under your control, ape." He smirked, glancing at Cynder. "I'm certain Cynder can see herself in the child's situation." Then he turned to Spyro, who looked uncomfortable at seeing the Fire Dragon attack a child despite the supporting argument. "Come, Spyro. Let's finish this."

Cynder's wing cracked in front of the Purple Dragon with a loud snap. "Spyro, please. Don't. I _know_ he's innocent. He isn't what you think he is—

The Savior looked at her, a sad mien on his muzzle. "I'm sorry, Cynder. But, but there's something **wrong** about him. I can _feel_ it crawling under my scales. I just want to keep you and everyone safe. I can't, I can't ignore something that's troubling me this much."

Sparx disapproved of this. "I think you're making a bad call, bro..."

"I'm sorry."

Joshua watched as Spyro moved past Cynder's wing. She did not follow him. The black dragoness stayed on the sidelines, taking neither Joshua's side nor her partner's. Happy as he was by the fact he at least swayed Cynder and Sparx towards the willingness to listen to him, that did not change the fact Spyro practically vetoed her, erring on the side of caution like any leader would. Spyro and Infernus stood next to each other, side by side. Joshua Renalia looked at them, fearful. He gripped the sledgehammer so tightly he thought it might snap in his fingers.

Joshua did not want to fight either of them, and even if he fought back with all his might, he did not even expect to win, let alone take down Infernus. Up against a 19-year old Spyro and an adult dragon skilled enough to be considered a possible successor to Ignitus? Those odds weren't great.

He was f*cked.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

I want to apologize for making such a long chapter. Roughly 3200 words pretty much retold the arrival of Spyro and Cynder from Joshua's point of view, but I felt this was necessary as, well, I believe the nerdgasm "I GOTTA SQUEEEE" moment was obligatory, as Joshua **is** supposed to represent the gamers/fans who love to insert themselves into the Spyro universe. I hope his fanboying was entertaining at least.

Without a section dedicated to Joshua eye-raping Spyro and Cynder as they arrived, the chapter length would've been 8,300 words long, which falls below the maximum limit I've imposed on _Aimless_. Definitely above the target average, but still not past the limit. Hopefully you found the crowd's continued madness convincing. Writing about crowd behavior and herding is difficult, I must admit.

Again, I apologize for the long chapter. I am trying very hard not to make _Aimless_ end up like my main story, which usually features 15K chapters at a minimum. It's not a direction I want to go to. I actually had to cut off some sections from the end here since trying to make the chapter fit the 19 bullet points I laid out for it would've resulted in a 15K chapter. =_=

Moving on, so we're on track to catching up to _Aimless_'s opening scene (see chapter 1 if you forgot) by the 15th chapter. Right as I intended. :)

For now, Cynder doesn't want to take any sides, Sparx is completely in Joshua's camp, and Kilat has been KO'd. Joshua is alone against Spyro and Infernus without any help... but we know how that's going to end. XD

And forgive me if Spyro, Cynder, or Sparx sound OOC at any point. I'm relatively new to the fandom and I don't have that good a grasp of the canon characters. :)

On a personal note, I am finally done with my exams last Saturday! It was **nuts**. A day-long affair, and I'm sick of seeing math and economic concepts. :| I won't find out if I pass until August, but I hope I do. I'll be so glad to get three letters to my name.


	14. Déjà Vu

**Chapter 14: Déjà Vu **

* * *

"_This was too much for him to handle. It was like watching memories of his life play out from a different camera angle, sometimes with new scenes added."_

\- Dennis Sharpe

* * *

The Purple Dragon of Legend was the rarest of all dragons. Born once every ten generations, with raw power far greater than anyone had ever seen or imagined. Capable of mastering all the elements, even abilities none in the Dragon Realms ever thought possible…

…including time itself.

Dragon Time was the sole reason Spyro survived when the Well of Souls collapsed. In its most benign form, through some obscure manipulation of physics, Dragon Time manipulated the fabric of spacetime, slowing the passage of time for everyone _but_ the Purple Dragon. The Chronicler said it was an ability that enabled the user to see events just before they occurred. An opportunity to act ahead, to allow that extra wiggle room—that extra time to do whatever it took to ride the storms of the times.

Joshua Renalia knew how it looked like from Spyro's perspective. The vision turned blurry, the sounds distorted. Everyone around him moved sluggishly, even opponents normally too fast for Spyro to keep up with. Once upon a time, as a young gamer, Joshua would play _The Eternal Night_ and slog through every level, no matter the difficulty. He remembered pushing himself to go on, to move farther along the game regardless of his frustration, of the stronger and stronger temptation to throw away the controller and quit in a fit of rage.

After completing that level with the Skavengers, he went to bed feeling like he accomplished something that day. Yet as Joshua still felt the adrenaline rush of finishing the level, a stray thought occurred to him. He remembered how many times he resorted to—he **abused** Dragon Time in-game, just to survive, a behavior he couldn't help repeating in _Arkham Asylum_—because it was more convenient. Then he wondered, what would it be like from his enemies' perspective?

Did Spyro suddenly gain in speed, moving with unnatural alacrity?

Was his very form swathed in a blur, obscuring him from his opponents?

Or did he move so fast that the opponent simply found the Purple Dragon in front of him, seemingly teleporting across the battlefield?

Unlike the other Elements, there was no stopping Dragon Time. Beyond the high strain put on the Purple Dragon, it had no glaring weaknesses. No direct countermeasures. Once it was used—once supernatural speed kicked in—once the familiar blur cloaked the draconic body, anyone unlucky enough to face the dragon was surely dead, and they wouldn't know it until a second passed and the Purple Dragon of Legend loomed above them, claws and teeth raked in blood.

Anyone, indeed, save for the wielder of the Unknown Element.

The instant Spyro entered Dragon Time, a strange sensation swept Joshua Renalia. The human turned his gaze towards Spyro; his emerald eyes saw _past_ him. He looked _through_ him, his own brain marking the Purple Dragon automatically.

To Joshua, a pulse of life felt **alive**. It was an indiscernible shape, one he often made reference to a sphere, if only to satiate his need for understanding. Beneath the surface laid a host of activity, a series of tiny intricate signals linked not only to the biochemistry and neurology but also to emotions and the ethereal spirit. The machinations of a soul, should the living organism within the Unknown Element's radius of influence possess one.

From the outside, Spyro the Dragon stood on all four paws. His stance was low, tense, perhaps. So was the Guardian Candidate next to him, the fraudulent character also preparing for combat. Suddenly Spyro's life signature became a mad flurry of activity, tickling the fringes of Joshua's ego boundaries. It danced, setting off alarm bells as it buzzed and prickled.

Joshua went on guard immediately and—

The frenetic sensation flooded the entire area on which he stood. Hairs stood up, and pure undiluted instinct demanded—_commanded_ the human to step back. To **move**. Anywhere but there! Impelled by the unquestionable desire to live, he backpedaled twice, his left leg planted firmly behind him.

The Purple Dragon blurred before his emerald gaze and startled the young man. Spyro's indistinct silhouette zipped faster than he's ever seen him move, even when he controlled him as a player. In two blinks of an eye, he twisted his twin horns upward where Joshua's abdomen had just been, in a movement that would've gutted him had he refused the call of self-preservation. The fabled Hero of the Dragon Realms came in a rumbling thunder, coated by an intimidating coat of electricity outclassing Kilat's by a vast chasm.

But Joshua didn't want to fight Spyro. He didn't want—he _couldn't_ want to even hurt him. He, the character the gamer loved as a child. He, the person from whom descended the hero he had come to know. Still operating from terror, his every movement wild, frantic, and panicked, Joshua Renalia had not only evaded the Volt Tackle, but also moved through the process of retaliation.

Joshua had the presence of mind to recalibrate his aim, to twist the sledgehammer in his hands so the business end did not strike the dragon's snout.

Purple eyes widened at the lack of meat being torn between his jaws, or the solidness encapsulating his horns. "No way!" An uncharacteristic yelp of surprise sped out his muzzle as he saw the teenager's weapon coming for him. Too surprised to even notice the fact Joshua ensured he only got hit by the ironwood handle, rather than its metal head.

Spyro felt the strike and was pushed back. "H-h-how?" he stammered, perplexed. "Ancestors, I was in Dragon Time!"

"I don't want to fight you, Spyro!" Joshua Renalia did not push the offensive. "I _can't_ fight you! You're my—

A ferocious growl cut him off. The Purple Dragon had blocked out his pleas, ignored the pacific begging, perhaps because that goddamn fraud spent minutes arguing the dangers posed by the human during the scant time Joshua spoke to Cynder arguing _his_.

Spyro was upon him. Joshua glimpsed an Element illumine the tips of his wing fingers. He yapped incoherently, raising the sledgehammer in defense. Spyro spiraled three times in rapid succession, wisps of fire blazing a trail across the air. Every coil, every twist sent two strikes at the human, who needed every ounce of his strength holding on to his only line of defense.

CRRRRAAACK!

_Damn it, it's starting to break the ironwood! _Who **knew** wings were this strong? This attack looked so ludicrous, so implausible in _Dawn of the Dragon_, Joshua never realized it was a piece of lore never explained in the video games, most likely forgotten in plain sight, being a common attack for players controlling the Hero of the Dragon Realms.

But Spyro was not done yet.

His counteroffensive was far from over.

Without slowing down his momentum, the Purple Dragon continued, proceeding to twist faster and faster. Raucous howls filled Joshua's ears—almost deafening up close!—as the Ice Element pulled in the air at such rapid speeds a miniature cyclone of snow and ice formed, centered on the Savior himself.

Joshua recognized the attack even as it formed. The Snow Storm. A mana-draining secondary attack from _Dawn of the Dragon_, as brutal as it was effective for crowd control and destroying elite enemies.

"Mother of God!" Joshua yelled. He kept his sledgehammer elevated. He _knew _it wouldn't do much against an attack like this, but he needed all the defense he could get, and the gamer hoped he could at least manage to deflect what little he could.

A vain hope.

The sudden drop in temperature put Joshua's body into shock, instantly enfeebling his ability to keep up. Blinded by the supernatural blizzard, multiple hailstones pelted the boy from the sides, smashing into him with such ferocity Joshua could only scream as he felt his bones snap, his arms shrieking, and his legs on the verge of crumbling. Agony rendered Joshua Renalia sightless. Tears flowed out his eyes continuously as he kept screaming, screeching as he spent all his efforts on keeping his sledgehammer raised, on protecting his head.

Even now, the Unknown Element refused him. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus on Spyro's pulse of life, not when he held himself back. He didn't want to hurt Spyro. He couldn't do it. No. Not his hero. Not his idol.

He couldn't…

He **mustn't**!

The wind magnified. As soon as the howls overwhelmed Joshua's screams, a powerful gust comparable to a tornado plowed into the teenager's body, blowing him several feet away, away from Spyro and the devilish ice twister he subjected him to.

"Grrllk!" he suppressed his unmanly shriek, almost biting off his tongue in the process. Joshua strained to open his viridian eyes, gasping from the sensation of a hundred blades crisscrossing across his entire body. From his legs to his arms to his shoulders, Joshua Renalia felt as though he'd just been put through a meat grinder.

Joshua did not even realize how frantically he shivered until his mind managed to pause and determine why he still felt pain running laps throughout his body.

His legs were mutilated. Bloody.

His own arms weren't faring any better.

The sledgehammer miraculously remained in his grasp, but what good was that if he no longer had the means to raise it?

Joshua Renalia stretched his ego boundaries as far as he could for a second, before his consciousness retreated into his body. He choked, repressing a sob. **Now **he was truly f*cked. Spirit Gems had become scarce, and the paucity of the heaven-sent crystals was so apparent Joshua knew this was it. Whether by the young man's overreliance on them or by proactive measures of the city guard, the extended awareness of the Unknown Element sapped all of Joshua's hope at getting out of this alive.

He felt weak. Nauseous.

Joshua found the urge to close his eyes, to sleep the endless sleep, increasingly difficult to resist. An exhaustion he could not possibly describe swept the human. His newfound senses impaired, even Infernus's pulse of life was hard to pinpoint, flying above them like a ravenous vulture, waiting for his prey to finally die.

The Guardian Candidate jeered at him from above, a smug expression probably decorating his muzzle. "Did you seriously try to deceive the Savior of the Realms?" he reviled. "He knows your true nature, Servant of Malefor. Your cunning words may have swayed Cynder and the little girl, but I made sure they will have no effect on the Purple Dragon."

Joshua would have cursed Infernus for his derision if he was not lying down on the ground, dangerously close to dying and desperate for help. For a last-minute miracle. Why weren't the Ancestors helping him? Why was Cynder just _standing_ there? She believed in his innocence—she _tried_ to stop this. Why wasn't she acting **now**?

Deep sorrow hammered Joshua's chest.

He was alone.

He was _all_ alone.

It was him against a bigoted, distrustful world. Kilat no longer stood by his side, his only true friend in this ordeal dispatched easily—EASILY!— by that idiotic Fire Dragon.

Goddammit! Why was life being so difficult? He didn't deserve **any** of this! All this happened because he decided to walk right up to the front door? Because he wanted to give Kilat the chance to live a normal life? Instead of the destitute existence of a homeless vagrant?

Crap, why didn't he listen to her? Why didn't he take her advice and take the secret tunnel in the Valley of Avalar? Why had he been so f*cking STUPID? Had Joshua been **that** hopelessly naïve, thinking Kilat's company would've spared him the disdain of all those retards at the Gates? Believing Spyro would've given him the benefit of the doubt?

Some boss battle this turned out to be.

Joshua Renalia was first and foremost a gamer. He'd played enough games over the years, the young man developed over time an appreciation for game design. From the structure of the plot and little nuggets of lore scattered across the virtual world, to the complexity of gameplay mechanics and, naturally, the challenges for a player to overcome.

Crowning achievements that the gaming industry eventually learned to monetize. It would make no sense for someone to intentionally relinquish every perk—every benefit—every reward more than five times in a row, after all, if there wasn't a shiny medal to be put right next to the username. Status symbols. Fame and credibility. It was depressing, really, how nerds and geeks… how people who were already outcasts to begin with could be such blatant hypocrites.

Joshua's gaze lingered on the Purple Dragon, who stood silently, a grim air enveloping him while he watched him bleed to death. It rested on him for a moment, on his expressionless muzzle, before his viridian gaze tore away from Spyro and fastened on the airborne Infernus, who soared towards him, perhaps intending to truly finish him off.

Up against a Fire Guardian Candidate and Spyro the Dragon himself, yet Joshua had just barely grasped the abilities of his Element. He possessed even less proficiency in controlling it.

What use was the power to disable his enemies with an unblockable attack, when he had no idea what triggered it? What use was the power to manipulate all the known Elements in the Dragon Realms if he couldn't do it consistently on the fly?

From his unique perspective, this was Nintendo Hard.

No established video game developer, would, in 2015, dredge up the impossible modes of the foregone years of Joshua's childhood. They wouldn't have thrown him into the blazing fires of hell so soon after the game had just begun. _Pokémon_ didn't start off with your PC facing off the Elite Four the instant you took your first pokémon from the resident professor. _Dead Space_ may have begun the games in high-octane moments, but the franchise never threw a beginning player into a throng of advanced, difficult-to-manage necromorphs with the baseline plasma cutter.

Even Ted Price had mercy for players of the original _Spyro the Dragon_. Had the CEO of Insomniac Games been as heartless, as cruel as the evil maniac who designed _I Wanna Be the Guy_, a level as difficult as the infamous Tree Tops of the Beast Makers' realm would have been waiting for the player the second they took the portal to _Classic_ Spyro's home, Stone Hill.

If this sickening situation God was putting him through—if this wish fulfillment turned nightmare had been a bonafide video game, Joshua Renalia would've never faced Spyro the Dragon. He would've never had to meet that bastard Infern_ape_ in a battle to the death. Even if the Divine Author orchestrating this story pitted him and Kilat against scores of intolerant dragons no less retarded than the Guardian Candidate as Rimeer was prejudiced, it might have only been right—it have only been **fair** if Joshua Renalia had at least been shown the Almighty Father's mercy, granted the knowledge to invoke even the less-lethal applications of the Unknown Element.

But no! He had to face the most powerful dragon in the Realms. The Purple Dragon had help from a callous bully he tolerated. Joshua had little control over his Element, if he had any at all to begin with. Worst of all, he couldn't kill. He couldn't bring it within himself to inflict harm on Spyro the Dragon. On the Savior of the Dragon Realms.

The sacred hero of Warfang.

**His** hero.

The Grand Architect of all life on Earth did not seem to care. At this moment, Joshua even felt God Himself drew some sort of sick satisfaction, silently watching a young man's wish fulfillment transmogrify into a hellish nightmare he had no hope of escaping.

Yet as all hope left the teenager, Joshua Renalia concentrated his gaze on Infernus. He would've growled, he would've _snarled_ like a lion if he could. This was the dragon who turned Spyro against him. This was the prick who stopped Rimeer from letting him through.

The son of a bitch who clobbered a child—a **f*cking child!**—to silence her.

The motherf*cking c**t responsible for all this goddamned **shit**.

A Guardian Candidate?

A successor for Ignitus? For a wise Fire Dragon, generous, munificent, and erudite beyond words?

Infernus was nothing but a fraud!

A damn fraud.

A fraud who must **fall**.

Joshua centered his attention on the Fire Dragon in the skies. He zoomed in on the pulse of life floating on the very air. He blocked out every sound his ears registered. He only had eyes for the Guardian Candidate, and he wanted to make him **pay**.

The human struggled to stand. Broken bones creaked as he got to his feet, the rasp so disgustingly audible it took everything he had _not_ to fall again, _not_ to even go on his knees and vomit. Joshua Renalia raised his weapon: the business end of a hammer on the brink of splintering. In an effort to inhibit the pain flourishing all over his body like maggots eating him alive, the teenager spread his ego boundaries across the ground. He draped his own consciousness over everything within five paces.

Two hundred blades of grass.

An anthill squirming with thousands of ants.

Weeds scattered around the plains.

Centipedes and earthworms scampering about its surface, hidden from all.

Joshua Renalia did not hear Spyro the Dragon let out a horrified gasp. "That's **impossible**! How can he be—I don't see any Red Spirit Gems!"

Joshua Renalia watched the Fire Dragon swoop down fearlessly. "Amazing that you can still stand, Dark Servant!"

"Infernus, wait—

Arrogantly. "This ends here, you wretched ape!" The Guardian Candidate was upon him, taking a deep breath for a moment before releasing it as a massive deluge of azure flames. An advanced technique, one Spyro himself might not have even mastered.

The human defiantly stood his ground, a menacing scowl decorating his russet face. He had his eyes only on Infernus. If he was going down, then that bastard was going down with him. Joshua said nothing in reply, for his every thought—his every desire was transfixed on _ending_ the pulse of life beyond his natural reach. So engrossed was the human, he did not realize everything within five steps of him had withered and died. Even the anthill had gone silent.

Nor did Joshua realize the Unknown Element finally appeared in its natural state.

A white screen appeared and **impeded **the great bonfire descending on him. Bluish tongues of fire licked at the barrier, the shield splitting the Fire Element apart long before it could inundate the human. Spyro couldn't believe his eyes. "W, what is _that_?"

Joshua did not hear the Purple Dragon. Instead he felt **it**. A strange sensation took root in his hands. Just like before, it was not as if his limbs became an empty cavity, channeling _something_ through his arms, pooling them in his palm until he could hold it no longer, like a man on the brink of orgasmic ejaculation. Instead it was merely an urge.

An urge to swing the hammer towards Infernus.

Joshua still did not see.

He did not see the bright glow that coated his arms and his weapon in white.

He did not sense Spyro enter Dragon Time again, his pulse of life become an agitated bustle of activity.

Because 100% of his focus went into swinging the damn hammer at the fraud. "Take this, you f*cking son of a _bitch_!"

The Hero of the Dragon Realms tackled Joshua Renalia at the last moment, so consumed by panic and excessive caution he had pounced on the young man instead of gutting him open with Comet Dash.

A burst of orange fire singed Joshua where Infernus's flames could not. The human rapidly fell to the ground, with Spyro right on top of him, purple paws on both shoulders. But not before he completed the swing, and released a white, lachrymal sphere towards the airborne pulse of life.

It moved faster than the eye could blink. It penetrated the shield and continued, unimpeded. It shoved its way past the flood of fire. It emerged in the open air and, because of Spyro's last-second intervention, the white tear landed on Infernus's right flank instead of his head.

The white bead exploded into an array of unnatural, pallid lightning, spreading all across his rear legs, his tail. Then Infernus, Guardian Candidate, suddenly dropped from the sky. His body from the waist down turned black, gruesomely swollen from necrosis. Not even the internal organs were spared. Infernus lost his tail and two of his legs forever. His cloaca was just as useless, incapable of passing waste or even passionate fornication with a female dragoness.

A resounding crash announced his landing. Joshua snapped back to reality, while Spyro the Dragon froze, seconds away from pressing on. The Savior turned. "INFERNUS!" Agonizing roars boomed in reply, the vermillion dragon rendered incapable of speech. In minutes, Infernus would no longer have the strength to scream. He'd whimper instead, like a hatchling.

Spyro returned to Joshua, rage beginning to color his voice. "What did you do to—

The Purple Dragon was just in time to see the sledgehammer collide with his shoulder. Spyro fell over, rolling once—twice—giving Joshua Renalia precious time to recover. Why the Unknown Element failed to manifest this time, the gamer couldn't figure out, but he had no intentions of wasting time surrounded by a hostile people and an even angrier hero.

In a split-second, Joshua zeroed in on Kilat's pulse of life. She was still, her body left alone beyond the line of guards, beyond what remained of the bigoted retards ahead. Her life signature hummed softly to him, but even he could tell it'd only take a few more minutes for her to regain consciousness.

Joshua made the wrong call, going here. Now, they had to run. **He** had to flee from the Eastern Gates, but there was no way in Hell he planned on leaving the Electric dragon here. He promised himself he wouldn't abandon her. He swore the two of them would be together, through thick and thin. He was responsible for her; after all the failures he experienced since waking up in that forest, Joshua rejected **all** possibilities of failing even that.

Time to fall back on the original plan. The plan Joshua would have taken had he been alone, had he never met Kilat, or saved her from those hateful Apes. After a hasty retreat to the Autumn Plains, they would circle around towards the Avalar and enter the City of Dragons from the secret tunnel. There was no way Joshua Renalia wouldn't be able to find it, not when he'd played the game enough times to know the general landmarks. From there, they would emerge behind the walls, undetected. Sneak past the guards and citizens alike, aiming to surreptitiously infiltrate the Warfang Temple. Joshua didn't have a single clue how they could meet the Guardians in a civil manner, but perhaps if they rendezvoused with Cynder—

The Purple Dragon rose on all four paws. Joshua did not need to look back to confirm. He had to escape. He had to **hide**.

"He's getting away!" Someone from the crowd yelled.

"Where is he?" demanded the Savior.

"Right there!"

"He's _right _there!"

Shit! Joshua sprinted harder, sprinted _faster_. He couldn't fight Spyro. He couldn't hurt him.

Spyro bellowed, turning his head back and forth, "**Where**? I can't find him!"

Wait-wait-wait-wait—**what**! That's impossible! Joshua ran in plain sight. He made his getaway, fleeing in open space. Everyone else could see him, and Joshua didn't remember doing anything _to _Spyro with his Element. So why couldn't his hero see him? At a glance, he saw Spyro raise his head. He sniffed the air, mauve gaze panning the crowds around him. The Savior failed to sniff him out? But Joshua wasn't even that far!

Metal clinked in front of him and interrupted the young man's thoughts. Swords swished in the air, some ripped right out of the leather sheathes. Paws padded the grass, disturbed the gravel. The human boy pulled his gaze back to the front, where he saw multiple guards blocking his path. In the very center stood an atlawa. Imposing, he stood several inches taller than the teenager, a bastard sword clasped in both hands. "You may have bewitched the Purple Dragon, Ape, but you cannot fool us!"

"Why are you all gathered there?" Spyro's voice floated to the crowd in front of the stranded gamer, confusion filling his words. "What's—

The Atlawa guard raised his weapon and brought the massive bar of steel down on him.

Joshua Renalia pivoted and pushed himself laterally, parallel to the wall of guards. Element or no Element, that **would** have killed him even if he had a thousand HP Crystals in his grip. A mole thrust a spear at the teenager. "Whoa!" Joshua twisted out of the way. He felt the blade scrape the side, ripping part of his shirt and drawing blood.

Spyro called again. "What's going on? Who're you attacking? _I don't see anyone_!"

Joshua had no recourse but to slam the sledgehammer into the mole before he could pull the weapon back and cut him some more. It clouted the guard's snout, solid metal _breaking_ the jaw from sheer momentum alone. His opponent fell and created an opening.

A wedge into the crowd of guards and civilians alike. Too close, too tightly packed for anyone to go at him with a sword or a spear.

For a moment, Joshua's attention passed over Spyro. He was still searching, still seeking him out. Yet as though God had mercy on him, somehow the Savior couldn't follow his scent, hear the young man, let alone see him. The commotion occurring before him had drawn his interest anyway, and he was alarmed to find the Purple Dragon strolling towards his position, cautious and wary.

_Got to make everything count while it lasts!_

Joshua Renalia plunged into the opening. He had no choice. He didn't know how much longer he'd remain "hidden" from Spyro. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the work of the Unknown Element. How it managed something like this perplexed him, yet for all the questions Joshua had regarding his inexplicable power, he knew this wasn't the time to count his blessings.

The teenager flung his youthful body at what little space was there. He brought up his scavenged sledgehammer, raised it in front of him. A bystander screamed from fright and scrambled back. A cheetah managed to make some wiggle room and moved to grip his arm.

"Damn it, no!" Joshua twisted his elbow away. Claws raked across his biceps, eliciting a hiss from the human. He elbowed the offending cheetah, who had little recourse but to let his snout eat the blow due to the sheer number of people surrounding them. He swiveled his weapon in an attempt to ward them off. It clanged on their armor. It clanged on their shields. The rattle of the weapon assaulted the sensitive ears of the moles and stunned them for a moment.

Enough time for Joshua to push himself out of the armored throng and into the larger circle of noncombatants watching the fiasco. "ARRRRGGHHGH!" the young man cried, expending all of his meager strength into this mad escape.

Evergreen eyes fell on the child slumped beneath the tree, away from the action, away from the danger. Her body sprawled on all fours, the neutral expression on her snout gave off a serene illusion of slumber. "Kilat," Renalia murmured. He almost imagined himself sleeping next to her, cradling the dragoness's muzzle as she snoozed on his lap. "I'm coming for you," he told himself—he told—no, he _swore _to her. "I'm getting you out of this hellhole. We'll—

Pulse of life, from above!

Joshua backpedaled in time to avoid getting himself crushed by an adolescent dragoness slightly smaller—slightly younger than Cynder. Her periwinkle scales replaced the marred but beautiful gold of the Electric prodigy. Wings as long as an adult human's broke apart and released a deafening pop. Teal membranes formed an impassable curtain before the young man. He almost froze at the sound of her rabid grumbles.

"You're not getting away!" she screamed at him, the Unknown Element letting its wielder know about the Ice Element traveling up her throat. "Servant of Malefor, you will—

Whatever she had to say, she could shove all those words up her ass. "Get the **f*ck** out of my way!"

He wheeled the sledgehammer around, swiveling it from the front and back 'til it rested on his shoulder, ready to meet whatever the dragoness had, even if it killed him. But Joshua did not anticipate a white orb as tiny as a tennis ball shoot out of his only weapon.

Neither did he expect this miniscule object to burst into mist on her snout. A white, translucent fog, spreading swiftly among the crowd. More screams raped his ears, yet the dragoness's own roars dwarfed them, molested them as though someone had gotten a thick earbud and jammed it up his ear canal.

"BY THE ANCESTORS!" Her head whipped around. "Everything's gone _black_! I can't hear anyth—I can't hear **my voice**! What's, what's happening?"

"Help!" clamored another person behind him. "Help! Someone help! I can't see. I"—the sound of a body crashing into a guard's armor.—"OW! What's that? What did—n-n-no. Who, w-who—URK!"

"You damned Ape!" one of the guards hollered. She swung her axe, swinging it in random directions. "Where are you? Show yourself? Spirits, curse your black magic! I can't see **anything**!" Two civilians fell to the enfeebled security, all three of them unable to see or even hear.

"What did you **do**?" boomed the Ice Dragoness, her nose sniffing the air. Her muzzle turned directly towards Joshua. "What did **you** **do** to me—

Joshua stabbed two of his fingers into her nose, cringing at the fluid he felt inside. She lifted up her muzzle, yelped like a child, and staggered from the alien feeling. The adolescent, periwinkle dragoness dropped sideways, falling on top of two unlucky citizens as she pawed at her two nostrils.

Flicking the slime off his fingers, he swerved around the noisy bodies, relieved he didn't need to do anything. He didn't want to harm another dragon, and he certainly didn't want to hurt anyone else. Infernus had truly been the only person he wanted to kill, because that bastard deserved it. Joshua couldn't figure out what he did to that godf*cking fraud, but whatever made his life signature ripple, contract, and wobble from a cacophony of shrieks and agonized groans, he deserved all of it.

"Kilat!" Joshua shouted. The bystanders beyond the range of the mist avoided him now, struck dumb by fear of suffering the same fate as those who went before them. "KILAT!" he called again, probing the unconscious body with his Element. _Christ, she's injured. I hope it's nothing serious. _"Wake up! Damn it, wake up!"

Joshua crossed the dirt road. Concern undressed itself on the teenager's face. He grimaced, already worried he'd have to abandon his only reliable line of defense and carry the child—

The hairs on his neck prickled. Someone was staring.

From the direction of the massive tunnel under the Gate.

He spun towards this person and…

…and he _blinked_.

The Red Lady—the burgundy dragoness—ogled the human behind scores of civilians clamoring to escape further into the city. Joshua felt her pulse of life contract substantially, a tugging sensation that pulled inward. Earflaps wilted, her monotone muzzle wore a sad expression. The gamer saw the concern—the conflicted diffidence in her eyes. They made eye contact for a moment; insight flashed in Joshua's mind, and thereafter he understood the deep shame she felt, the ignominy of watching fellow citizens—her _heroes_—wrongfully judge a kind, amiable acquaintance before they had a chance to be friends with him.

Joshua Renalia turned back to his young, adorable charge. While a city guard came and ushered the Red Lady into the protection of the city, he jogged to Kilat, ditching the sledgehammer along the way. It would've been impossible to use it if the child happened to be dead weight.

The boy instantly regretted discarding his only weapon…

Because Dragon Time itched at Joshua's sixth sense once again. A sensation—another urge to move as soon as possible overwhelmed the human being. But rather than listening to his only Element, he risked a quick glance behind him.

A peek, barely noticeable.

It took a couple seconds to deny his natural instincts and briefly look back.

It took less than that for Spyro to reappear in front of him, plunging from the skies enshrouded in electricity.

"Got you!"

Joshua opened his mouth to scream, to curse, only for all his words to die as the dragon's golden horns skewered his stomach, a fierce blow that sent him careening into the ground. Electric currents ate away his wounded skin as it gushed throughout all the fluids in his body. The human became an uncontrollably twitching mess, turned into a living Airdancer, limbs flailing as he fell, unable to even squeal.

Blood pooled out of Joshua Renalia. All the kinetic energy stored and ready to use in this grand getaway drained with it, the lethargy accumulating at an upsetting rate. Had Joshua possessed the presence of mind to ponder on the recent past, his thoughts might have wandered back to the day he first met Kilat, a dragon he only knew from afar, practically falling into his lap bleeding, poisoned, the vivacious eyes he grew used to seeing blink and roll around energetically threatening to glaze over from the listlessness of death.

To think he found himself in the same boat several days later, with Kilat unable to help and his demise carried out by none other than the Purple Dragon he worshipped, his favorite character of all time. The irony of the situation wouldn't have been lost on Joshua.

A Red Spirit Gem twinkled just past the boy's peripheral vision. _Got to… heal up… _With his ability to stand, to run, to _move_, compromised by the double whammy of an electric chair and twin stakes rammed through his abdomen, Joshua could only crawl. Almost grovel, clambering those precious inches separating his hand from the cool, brittle surface of the Ancestors' blessing. The young man torqued his chest and started—

"It's over." Spyro the Dragon pounced on top of Joshua before he could roll over. The Hero of the Dragon Realms pinned the human's shoulders with his paws, depositing his _entire weight_ on him.

"Spuh, Spyro…"

"I don't know _what_ you did back there, but now I know Infernus is right. Your power has the mark of evil. I can **really**, **feel** it! I don't know why Cynder and Sparx are giving you the benefit of the doubt, but to me it's _clear_ you're working for Malefor." He lifted his eyes, quickly scanning the scenery. "I won't let you hurt anyone else, Ape. You're not getting near that child again. She's free now."

Free?

Free from what?

From him?

No! He misunderstood the situation. All because of that f*cking fraud! Kilat wasn't a hostage. Kilat wasn't a brainwashed slave. She's a friend. A little girl he watched over. Someone he considered a younger sister.

Joshua Renalia _would rather die_ than do anything to hurt her. "I didn't do anything to Kilat. Damn it, Spy, I love—

"And I'm making sure it **stays that way**." The Unknown Element detected a surge of power rising in the Savior's chest.

_F*ck my life!_ He had to stop this. Somehow, someway! Goddammit all, he just _had_ to throw away that hammer right before God decided to put him in a situation where he needed it. How idiotic was **that**? He should've done it when he had Kilat in his arms, not when she was still at least fifteen paces from her.

Hands scrambled, but the little wiggle room Spyro gave him was infinitesimal. He couldn't find anything within reach. There weren't any stones. There weren't any weapons—blades, hammers, axes—lying around, scattered during the frenzy. Nothing he could use to defend himself with. Not even a purse, a sling bag. Absolutely f*cking nothing!

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He was running out of time. He needed to find something. ANYTHING! There's got to be something he could use. Jesus Christ, why wasn't his Element responding to him now? If he could just do the same thing he did to that crowd of guards and militant, civilian volunteers, all his problems would—

The temperature in Spyro's maw cooled below 32 degrees.

Out of time.

Crap! He was out of time.

Desperate, his right hand clenched the sandy dirt on the road, seized as much as it could. With what little impetus he could put into it, Joshua threw the entire handful of dirt at Spyro's snout.

Miraculously, Spyro did not see it coming. Attention focused _completely_ on the young man's face, he neglected the arms after passing them off as effectively nonexistent. The foreign sensation of _something_ striking his muzzle caused him to react instinctively, just as an Ice Spike blew out of his open mouth.

The few miniscule degrees Joshua's split decision added to the finisher reduced its accuracy just enough for the frozen barb to fly in a different direction. Rather than impaling him through the skull in one death-dealing strike, the Ice Spike launched and instead annihilated his left ear and cut a large gash across the temple.

"ARRRRGGGGHHHHH!" If the splitting pain of losing an ear wasn't enough, rotational forces slammed his head into a partial roll, instantly inflicting Grade I concussion. Joshua's pupils widened and narrowed unevenly. Suddenly he saw double, he felt nauseated. Dizzy.

A headache arose and the world seemed to spin around and around.

"Ancestors!" he barely heard Spyro grumble from frustration. "You **don't **give up, do you?"

The slimy sensation of saliva and a tongue as wide as his palm did not register in Joshua's head until the dragon's canines sunk into the hand clamped between his jaws. "GAAAHHH!" Bones snapped. Teeth gnashed and masticated the raw meat, mangling the digits, mutilating the entire thing.

"Stop!"

Spyro dug into the hand, ensuring he completely disabled its use.

"Jesus-Mary-Joseph! Stop!"

He spat out the bloody mess right before the point a doctor would have recommended amputation.

"Spyro, _please_, just give me a chan—

Joshua shuddered as the gaping, pink maw loomed over him, casting shadows over his viridian eyes, foul odors filling his nose. Its descent was marked and predictable. All the pathetic begging faded out when he followed its path, ending right at the neck.

.

.

.

_The largest of the Death Hounds clamped its jaws around his neck, a second away from claiming the wayward gamer as food to last the night._

_It ignored his anxious flailing._

_It ignored his mindless screaming._

_Indescribable terror consumed Joshua Renalia, every inch of his body rejecting the very concept of death. He wanted to live._

_Nothing more, nothing less._

_Everything else he could worry about _later.

.

.

.

He twisted his neck back and forth. "Grrrr, no! No, no, no!"

Joshua struggled with all his might. "Get off get off get off get off!" This wasn't happening again. He couldn't be in **this** godforsaken situation again!

A white mist wafted out of Joshua's own mouth and enveloped the Purple Dragon's snout, disorienting the Savior enough to stop him from putting the human's neck between his teeth. Spyro's biggest fan never realized the Unknown Element manifested as an actual breath for the first time, too impaired by his concussion.

"**GET THE F*CK OFF!**"

Neither did Joshua realize his fist was encased in a bright, white light when his left hand struck the dragon's neck in a desperate move to push him away at the very last second.

Even after the immense weight on top vanished entirely as the Savior of the Dragon Realms fell to his side, Joshua Renalia's instincts compelled him to reach out for the HP crystal Spyro stopped him from using. He seized one of the many spikes jutting out of the road and tore it from its roots. Its healing energy rushed through him as it normally did, accelerating his natural regeneration by thousands of times during the short few seconds it remained active. It was a testament to Joshua's endurance that he did not scream from the enhanced healing.

Unfortunately, by now he had used far too many Spirit Gems too soon.

His disfigured right hand did not heal completely. The lacerations Spyro's teeth left behind were still fresh, bloody raw. And while the bones were fixed and his hand actually **looked** like a hand, motor movement was compromised. The punctures Spyro created when he slammed into the boy from the air had merely closed, the organs within his abdomen barely functioning at their best. Neither did all the symptoms of his concussion fully disappear, save for the double vision and his dizziness. The world still felt like it was going topsy-turvy, and the headache still had heft to its intermittent pounding. Even the desire to vomit still lingered.

Yet for all the amazing properties the HP Crystal granted to the Dragons, Joshua realized one of its major setbacks when he checked the status of his left earlobe. It simply wasn't there. He could still feel a chunk of his temple missing, right where the Ice Spike had gone through. Those were gone forever, it dawned on him.

Whispers and frightened murmurs of the crowd finally reached his ears.

"No. Ancestors, noooooo!"

"That monster!"

"Spirits help us. He's dead. He's **DEAD**!"

_What?_

Joshua Renalia turned around. A distressed, girlish squeak spilled out his lips when the teenager's gaze recognized the slump form of Spyro the Dragon, collapsed on his side, **unmoving**. Blood seeped out of all the orifices on his head.

Earholes.

Mouth.

Both nostrils.

Even the eyes!

A frightening amount leaked from the fallen Hero. "AHHHHHH!" the boy wailed. OH GOD WHY? HOW?

This was the **worst** he could've done. The **last thing **he wanted to do here.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He just wanted Spyro to get off him. He didn't want him dead! F*cking hell, he never intended to kill the dragon. He wanted to meet him, to be his dear friend.

Joshua went to what remained of the Red Spirit Gem and broke off another two spikes. He hurled it towards his childhood hero before the Unknown Element drained away all the vitality within. The human jogged to the fallen dragon, a sense of urgency filtering out all the suspicious, hateful muttering coming out of the crowd beginning to gather around him.

"Work, work, work, work," he begged the Almighty Father when he pushed the two Spirit Gem fragments towards Spyro, to the point one might have thought he was trying to force-feed him with both crystals. "Jesus, **please **make this work."

He pulled away his foot before even _that_ absorbed the precious life-giving energy those fragments contained. Anxiously the human watched the dragon's muzzle, hoping to see something—_anything_ that said Spyro would live.

But nothing happened.

Nothing f*cking happened.

Apparently the Dragons couldn't use any of their special crystals if they weren't conscious.

Damn it all! Why did all these things happen to him?

Joshua fell to his knees, tears pouring out of his eyes, his chest convulsing from the sheer magnitude of the sight before him. How could he do this to his greatest hero? To his sacred** idol**? What had he done? _By God_, what had he done!

Anthropomorphic beasts gathered past the solid, gilded gate. Literally a stone's throw away from Warfang, the City of Dragons. Upright llamas enjoyed the clear view thanks to their long, furry necks. Cheetahs observed the commotion from the treetops. Dragonflies fluttered to and fro, like mobile lanterns incapable of staying still. The occasional, adult dragon towered above them all, and it seemed the short, hairy moles and every other animal not blessed by height or acrobatics had little chance catching a good glimpse of the action.

All ignored the golden, one-winged dragoness slumped unconscious on a nearby tree. They'd much rather watch—stare at the human kneeling in the middle of the crowd, his flannel trousers and navy blue V-neck covered in blood.

Viridian eyes ogled the purple dragon. "S, shit," he cursed. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh f*cking shit!"

Joshua Renalia, the only human being in this entire spectacle, crawled forward. Dread consumed him, rendered the boy incapable of acknowledging the body lying in front of his eyes. "Oh my f*cking God!" He hyperventilated even as he cried, even as he felt like screaming. "I'm sorry. I'm so _sorry_. I, I-I-I, I didn't mean—I didn't **know**—

Both hands found the purple scales somehow, despite the human's panic. Smooth and ridged. To his surprise, they were still warm to the touch. He was alive! ALIVE! Yet the strong, rippling muscles inside were rigid, trembling from something he could only describe as shock. Plus, he couldn't discount all the blood pooling around purple head. At least he didn't sport the same black flesh the Alpha did several days ago. Spyro could _still_ be saved!

But the Hero's life signature was shrinking closer and closer to death. The fact he was still alive may not even matter at all, not without Joshua repeating the moment he healed Kilat of every wound on her body. And with his control over his Element nonexistent, what were his chances of doing that again, right? _Damn it_, he thought. This wasn't supposed to happen. This should've gone so much smoother. If only that stupid fraud didn't corrupt the Hero with his unjustified suspicion. "What did I do?" he muttered, confused. "What did I do? What did I do what did I do what did I f*cking—

Flashes of the Alpha Death Hound, snout drowning in glistening crimson, assaulted his mind relentlessly. He remembered the black, unsightly flesh coloring its torso and the disgusting smell of rotting death overpowering him. The teenager could even recall the other Death Hound, engulfed in white clouds that left it still and glassy-eyed, leaving nothing behind as though Harry Potter had cast _Avada Kedavra _on it.

Joshua fought the increasing urge to vomit. He fought the a much _stronger_ urge to drop dead, to run, to do nothing but gape. "No. No, no, no." The human choked. He choked. He cupped his mouth, but it barely suppressed the cry tearing itself out of his lungs. Nervously he moved over to the dragon's head, not caring if the blood on his clothes mixed with Spyro's. He brought his quaking hands to his muzzle and pulled it away from the pool. He felt the shallow, thin wisps of air flowing in and out of his nostrils, and thankfully his efforts prevented the Hero from drowning unconsciously. It was the least he could do. "I, I couldn't… no, I couldn't have, that's… that's not what I—

"NO! SPYRO!"

A gunshot rang out in his ears.

"Oh crap!" The human turned and saw a pair of magenta wings flaring ominously. Spyro's mate bared her fangs at him. Two emeralds glared back into his eyes, and he instantly saw the desire to protect a loved one shimmering inside.

"Get away from him, _ape_!" Cynder snarled, forgetting the peaceful conversation they've had earlier. Understandable. In the bigger picture, he didn't matter to her. Spyro did.

Joshua nearly shrunk at the blades glinting on his assailant's tail and wings. And those horns. All six of those sharp, menacing horns. They never looked so _dangerous_ in the video game. "Cynder, wait!" He raised his hands, as far up as he could. "Look, I can fix this. I can **fix** this! I **swear**!" He motioned towards the only other unconscious dragon in sight. He just needed to get his Element to heal him. That's the only recourse he had left. Either that or get him to whatever passed for a medical professional in the Dragon Realms as soon as possible. "Remember what I did for Kilat—

Cynder charged. She ignored his pleas. Joshua backed away out of fright. He couldn't even stand up, let alone run. He watched the former Terror of the Skies open her muzzle. "Don't kill me! Please, just give me a—

"A one-way ticket to Ape hell!" roared an enraged, golden dragonfly.

Red orbs flew out and veered straight for the human, who could do nothing but flinch, cover his face with his arms, shut his eyes, and braced himself for Cynder's _Phantom Fright_.

This was not how Joshua thought he would meet the two most celebrated heroes of the Dragon Realms, his two favorite video game characters of all time.

And so the egg has hatched.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Aaaaand there you have it.

With that, _Aimless_ has gone full circle and we are now at the opening scene of the story… and also at the midpoint of the "Gates of Warfang" story arc. What will happen after Cynder attacks Joshua? Hehehe, wouldn't you want to know? XD

Anyway, I'm excited to end this story arc myself. All this excessive battling and life-threatening situations are starting to drain me. It's also making me think of my main story and that fills me with guilt. Now, as some of you may already know from private messages with me, _Aimless_ will make a move towards the slice-of-life style of storytelling once the setting shifts _into_ Warfang. This means **both **lighthearted and serious themes will be explored. If any of you has ever read TokoWH's _Infinite Loops: A Tale of Two Realms _or TLOSpyrogirl's _Hourglass_, then you'll know exactly what sort of direction I'm pushing this story towards.

I believe this is the right path for _Aimless_, given my ultimate objective for it. If, for some reason, you still don't know what that is, please go back to chapter one and reread the section between the opening scene and Joshua's awakening in the Dragon Realms.

So this brings me to a question one of my guest reviewers has asked. Am I adding any romantic pairings here other than Spy/Cy? (BTW, if said guest reviewer is reading this – and I know you are – you really **should** just sign into your FFN account or create one if you don't already have one so we can converse directly.)

The answer is, yes, I most certainly will.

Joshua unwittingly attracts someone here and it'll come with a personal struggle of philosophy and morality, which I pray will be beautiful to read when I get there. And for those who ask, **no**, it will **not** be Kilat. Kilat is way too young for him (she's 10 years old!) and as much as Joshua loves her, he does not see her that way. Besides, the character Joshua will be paired up with already has a name and she's also been glimpsed once. We'll see her maybe a few more times before I officially introduce her character.

Aside from that, there are probably going to be a few others, though honestly I haven't thought that far out yet so it's still up in the air. Maybe I can toss Ember in here? She could fit in this envisioning of the Dragon Realms. Same for Flame, I guess. Or maybe I can take a page from DragonCid's _The Guardians_ fancomic from dA and give the Guardians a kink in their little sausage party they have going on there. **I don't know!** I never really cared about the shipping aside from Spy/Cy and Joshua/Unrevealed OC.

I'm more concerned with the world-building here, you know? Joshua is just one more thing Warfang's got to be worried about, on top of its political relationship with Caesar and the Apes, and the expeditions commissioned by Warfang to repopulate the dragon race. There are other things going on and Joshua isn't needed as a POV to tell that story. Spyro or Cynder will be adequate POVs for those. :P

See you all in the next chapter.


	15. Chain Reaction

**Chapter 15: Chain Reaction**

* * *

"_Part of me wants justice for this. Part of me wants to never cause harm to another."_

\- Ken Scholes

* * *

Of all the crazy things Sparx had seen in his life, he had never seen Spyro the Dragon fall in combat, not even once.

And today, he had seen the impossible unfold before his eyes.

Time became a dawdling snail when the furless ape breathed a translucent, white _something_ on his brother's muzzle and, in a fit of desperation and terror, strike that purple lump on his neck.

A flash of light.

Blinding. Obscuring.

One second Spyro had his jaws hovering above Baldie's neck, ready to make a kill neither he nor Miss Grouchy approved. In the next, Spyro was down, unconscious. Motionless. Blood leaked out of his brother's head, and even Sparx was afraid to approach the two.

"S, s-spuh, Spyro?" the dragonfly croaked. Sparx's voice drowned in the growing murmurs of the crowd. Horrified gasps broke around him. They proclaimed the furless ape a monster. They declared the Purple Dragon of Legend—his dear, beloved brother **dead**!

.

.

.

Dead!

As in finished. Gone forever. Returned to the Ancestors.

In a blink of an eye… or a flash of light.

Just, like, _that_.

"H, hey," Sparx moaned, a raspy cry coming out of his strangled lungs. "P-Purple Boy." The dragonfly's breath scrunched into the tightest of knots. It held his lungs hostage, and he found trouble breathing, found it difficult to say anything more than the haunted whisper of a ghost. "G-get up." He fluttered a little closer. A little higher. The sight of Spyro lying in a pool of his own blood quavered his tiny, golden body. "C, c'mon, bro. Stop putting on a show!"

Sparx's vision wavered—blurred when he focused on the unmoving purple scales. He circled around, albeit a little slowly, heart beating as he hovered in the air. The spike being rammed in his chest was so painful it felt like something tore at him, like two mean, heartless children had taken hold of his arms and put everything they had into prying him apart—splitting him in two.

And in a way, he was.

Sparx wanted to check on Spyro, yet he didn't want to see him. Not like this. "This, t-t-this better not be a joke, Spyro!" He barely heard his own voice over the rising din. Yet, to him, his words were the sharpest of all, so crisp and clear, he'd believe even Cynder heard him. "Damn it, you fat lump, you've gone through worse than this!" He balled his tiny, gold fists. "Get up. **Get, up**!"

Spirits, he'd never seen Spyro this pathetic. **Never!** Not in all the years he knew him. Nobody ever bested his brother in a fight, notwithstanding all the odds stacked up against him, and from the very beginning at that. Sparx remembered how inexperienced his brother had been seven years ago. A little child who lived as—who _believed_ he **was** a gigantic dragonfly for years on end, and discovered the truth of his adoption on that one particular day he and Sparx had the bad luck to run into Apes scouring the swamplands, weeding out the last remnants of resistance.

He walked out of the swamp with nothing but the Fire Element in his arsenal—Spirits, fatso didn't even know he could fly! Until Ignitus taught him, Sparx himself **didn't** think ol' Chunky could fly with those wings; they looked so bulky and cumbersome relative to a nimble dragonfly's he expected Purple Boy to go splat the day he threw himself off a random cliff.

Since then, Spyro the Dragon faced apparently insurmountable challenges, one after another. The mountain he climbed grew steeper and steeper as they progressed. He rescued the Guardians. He liberated them from their prisons. He fought the tainted Terror of the Skies, chased a devastated Cynder across the Dragon Realms, and went up against King Gaul, a loyal servant of the Dark Master.

The orchestra that was Spyro's life approached its crescendo after three years of stasis in a crystal. It pushed him to the city of Warfang, to a clash with the Destroyer, and finally a climactic battle with Malefor himself.

Throughout every step of the way, up until the very end, Sparx flew beside his brother. Call him a coward for fleeing every instant they saw battle. Call him a weakling—a glorified lantern for contributing _nothing_ whenever they found themselves exchanging blows with Apes, Grublins, and whatever minions the Dark Master employed. Call him a grump for never giving Cynder the benefit of the doubt she deserved, especially from someone so close to the Purple Dragon.

Sparx never cared about labels. Sparx stuck with Spyro because he was family. Because they grew up together. Because that fat lump was his brother. Because he was horribly naïve and idealistic. The dragonfly would **never** abandon family. He'd **never** abandon his brother.

He'd never understand why Spyro would **ever** treat someone who was _actually approachable_ like a bloodthirsty monster. Sparx could not comprehend his executive decision to destroy Baldie, but he couldn't comprehend even more the fact the Purple Dragon of Legend had **fallen**, when he was surrounded by countless allies—when he faced just a _single_ enemy who had _zero control_ over his strange ability—who never fought back until his life came under threat!

"AHHHHHH!" Baldie clutched his head, screeching, tearing at his hair as though he'd slain his own god.

What irony! Who ever thought the day Spyro saw complete defeat was the day he went after a terrified, hairless ape who didn't want to fight him, whilst surrounded by allies on all sides and at the height of his power, his prime?

But the situation shot far over Sparx's head. For once, his snarky tongue lost all speech. He flew closer towards his brother, eyes engrossed by the pitiful way Spyro curled on the bloody grass. This was a new low for him. The lowest of the lows. Even the dragonfly thought this was something his fat brother would never climb back from.

Spyro's unconscious body whined and whimpered. He wheezed. As the seconds wore on, the golden insect saw—he _swore_ he saw—Spyro the Dragon slowly but surely succumbing to the kiss of death. He was dying. Spirits, his brother was **dying** and there was **nothing he could do **to stop it.

But what _could_ he do anyway?

He was just a dragonfly! He didn't have brute strength. He didn't have any of those Elements the dragons prided themselves on. He wasn't even big enough to have a weapon of his own, a weapon sufficiently sized to make an impact when and where it counted the most. All he could do was fly around and be the cheerleader. Be the snarker who lifts up morale—a golden beacon of light for those who've lost the way.

An annoying pest for those who didn't need him.

A stupid, talking, glowing, good-for-nothing insect!

He was useless! What could he do to help Spyro? There was—

"NO!" Miss Grouchy had just processed the fallen body of her mate. She popped her wings open with a crack so loud Sparx's flight faltered from the way the air moved in their wake. "SPYRO!"

The dragonfly almost smiled at Cynder's display of concern and fury. For all the teasing and doubt Sparx heaved at her on a regular basis—for all the hours he spent imprisoned in her dark, foul mouth as a consequence for his badgering, drenched in dragon slobber and at the complete mercy of that evil, disgusting thing she called a tongue—he had to give the dragoness credit with one thing…

She **loved** that fat lump just as much as he did.

And a useless dragonfly, she was **not**.

"Cynder, wait!" Baldie begged. "Look, I can fix this. I can **fix **this! I **swear**! Remember what I did for Kilat—

Since the day Sparx met her—not the Malefor fangirl she'd been in the old days, but the guilt-stricken girl fresh from her curse—he had never seen the former general of the Dark Master bare her fangs with enough rage to match the cruel madness that made the Terror of the Skies infamous.

Cynder was livid, and Sparx approved. Joshua may not have wanted a fight with his brother—he may have desired peace, but in the end, **he** made that flash of light. **He** spat that white breath on his brother. The furless ape brought this upon himself.

"Don't kill me! Please, just give me a—

"A one-way ticket to Ape hell!" Sparx yelled at Joshua, tears almost flying out of his eyes. His respect for the black dragon grew as she opened the mouth he'd come to know intimately as punishment, and expelled the red spheres of the Fear Element. Sparx and Cynder have always had their differences in their relationship—oftentimes clashing, with Spyro normally their inadvertent mediator—but as far as the damned hoo-man was concerned, _revenge_ was something they yearned together in unison right now.

Joshua would pay dearly for murdering Spyro in front of them.

Sparx expected the furless ape to react like the Grublins they fought during the final war. Cynder's _Phantom Fright_, among the most potent techniques granted to the Fear Element, tended to blow the hapless victim away, followed by temporary paralysis. Not long enough to be rendered useless in a gory battlefield of war, but long enough for someone with Cynder's speed to come in and slice him up.

Baldie closed his eyes at the last moment as the red orbs crashed into him. By some inexplicable law of physics, the impact threw the furless ape into the air and sent him sprawling to the ground. The black grouch barreled towards him regardless, her body language screaming righteous ire, squirming with bubbling, pent-up wrath.

Joshua rose from the ground, just like any other Grublin or Orc who'd fallen victim to the Fear breath in the last war. He quivered, just like all of them, unable to move, green eyes widening at her approach. "Don't…" He tried to step back, but found his feet rooted; Cynder had put enough Fear in her attack to overwhelm the hoo-man with her killing intent. "Don't kill me…"

She kept going, rabid snarls dismissing his pleas. Sparx didn't stop her, for, he too, wanted to see justice served.

In all the moments he spent watching from the sidelines, observing Spyro and Cynder tag-team their way from the Well of Souls to the city of Warfang and the lands beyond, he had never seen anyone do anything more than shudder in terror and wait for death.

So, under the effect of the Fear Element, Baldie was powerless to do anything but scream and die with his regrets of—

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

All hell broke loose.

White gas enveloped the furless ape. It cloaked him—obfuscated the hoo-man behind its opaque clouds. The same clouds that took Infernus by surprise. Knocked him out of the sky screaming in agony. "What the hell is **that**?" the dragonfly screamed.

Cynder stopped at the last moment and leaped back. She inhaled and spewed a massive gust of wind at the enshrouded ape. It did nothing but send small ripples across the white cloak. Joshua Renalia screamed in reply, and suddenly the white cloak became a stream. A lance of clouds billowing rapidly towards her.

Spyro's beloved mate rolled at once—narrowly eluding the unexpected retaliation at the last second—and all eyes watched the jet stream keep going… and strike the top of a small tree before dissipating into the air.

**The whole tree withered on the spot**.

Sparx clutched his head, grimacing. "Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh maaannnn!" But how—why did it—how could—no! He was just seeing things. That tree didn't just **die** after so much as being _touched_—_**grazed**_ by that white stuff! He never heard of a magic spell that…

Spirits. Not even Malefor had the ability to dish out _instant death_. Convexity was a powerful thing—he'd seen Spyro and Cynder **both** employ it in the past and **crush** their opponents **easily**—but it _never_ killed _anything _instantly.

"Ancestors!" Cynder mouthed, her words laced with _fear_. "What was **that**? How—

"I don't know!" Baldie screamed, his own no less terrified than the dragoness's. "I don't know I don't know **I DON'T F*CKING KNOW**!"

The Black Dragon growled. "I'm not letting that stop me!" She spread her wings and took to the skies, a gust of wind aiding her vertical takeoff. She spiraled in the air and plunged downwards, green globs of fluid flowing out of her maw, each one spat in his direction.

Baldie ogled the corrosive poison coming at him with dismay. "F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!" He raised his hands and wiggled it back and forth, in hopes of redirecting it as he'd done in the past. A shocking chill engulfed Sparx when he watched **every glob** respond to the Joshua's twitchy movements. He moved his hand left and a ball of poisonous spit flew away—far away—in the same direction. He moved his hand to the right, and the next one moved with it.

He did it again. And again. And **again**! And—

Sparx noticed one of them was headed right for him. "YAAAAHHHH!" the dragonfly screeched and whirled out of the way. It landed on the grass directly below him, and the green leaves quickly sizzled and dissolved. Had he been a couple seconds too late, he'd be melting down there with it. _Yiiii! Who knew Miss Grouchy there could spit out something __**that**__ bad? _

Where did this perfect control come from? Just earlier the hoo-man barely managed to redirect Spyro's rocks and icicles and Infernus's fireballs! Now he was manipulating **everything** Cynder threw at him, as though he'd become a master of… a… a master of _whatever this was_ all of a sudden.

Another splotch of poison spit landed close to Spyro—much too close for comfort—while one happened to fall on a city guard watching the chaos unfold. "Ancestors!" he cried immediately. He rushed to get his armor off, flailing around the crowd of brave citizens and fellow soldiers, arms struggling to get the clasps of his armor. "Help me get it off! Help me. **Help**!"

Cognizant of the collateral damage, Cynder ceased her attacks. She flapped her wings. Dual blasts of Wind resulted from the movement, propelling her higher before that white cloak had a chance to appear again. The dragoness soared across the skies, doing nothing. Sparx would have yelled at the grouch for it had he failed to see the deep, angry scowl on her muzzle.

The bystanders—guards and citizens alike—still stood by, unable to figure out a way to assist the only other Savior of the Dragon Realms.

"Goddammit!" Joshua screamed at her. "God-**f*cking** dammit! Cynder, why're you trying to kill me?" He flexed one of his fingers at the Purple Dragon's corpse. "I—

"You killed him!" Cynder replied, her voice drowned in a cocktail of grief and madness. "You _killed_ my **mate**! Ancestors, and you still have the nerve to ask why I want to kill _you_?"

"But Spyro's **STILL **alive! That's what I've been trying to tell you! Mother of God, **please**, I _beg you_, stop this f*cking bullshit and let me help!" Emerald spheres glanced at Purple Boy. "I **know **I can fix this. Just give me a chance, before he really—

"You're lying!" she hollered at him. "I never should've given you the benefit of the doubt, _human_!" Cynder, living up to her old reputation as the Terror of the Skies, dove at Joshua for the second time, her descent assisted by a shroud of Wind both eliminating all air resistance and increasing her speed. The attack would kill the furless ape if it connected.

"No!" His eyes ensnared in perpetual anxiety, Joshua Renalia raised his quivering hands. "No! I'm not—don't do this. I didn't mean to hurt him!"

The dragoness drowned out his voice, snarling at him. A terrifying growl that frightened even Sparx. He had **never** seen Cynder **this** enraged.

"I never wanted to hurt Spyro. He's my—AAAGGGHHHH!" The boy screamed as he watched her bring all nine of her horns down on him. Twin portals of white light quickly formed within his raised hands.

That's when a tiny, anxious voice in Sparx's head decided to speak: Joshua **still** had no control over his power. Because the Fear Element still coursed through the hoo-man powerfully, exacerbating an already-elevated state of anxiety and emotion.

Every horrific thing Joshua accomplished here was a result of his **fear**.

Thus, the stronger he feared for his life, the **more** his terrible power responded.

In all the years he's known the grouchy hag Spyro fell in love with, Sparx never thought the day would come when he, too, cared enough to bother helping her. "CYNDER, LOOK OUT! Turn shadow, quick!"

The dragoness snapped to reality at Sparx's warning. She sent a look of disbelief at him for a moment—shock at his snap decision to help her for once—before recognizing the telltale signs of attack forming around Joshua's hands. She glowered and slipped into an airborne pool of black, tangible smoke as beams of light shot out from the two spheres floating in the hoo-man's hands.

The thick, goopy smoke dropped to the ground right as they tore **through** the Shadow Element, extinguishing it.

Oh man, Cynder couldn't do this alone! She **really** needed help. But how could a tiny, useless dragonfly like him help her with—Wait a minute!

Spirits, didn't Baldie say Spyro was _still alive_?

Fatso could still be saved?

A small ember of hope stoked in Sparx's heart, and for a moment, his exoskeleton glowed brighter. The loquacious insect decided to take matters to his own hands. His brother depended on him. He couldn't let him down. Not now, when he stood on the brink of death.

"Hey!" he buzzed, circling around a group of guards standing by, watching the spectacle between Joshua and the other Savior. "Hey, you! I need your help!"

A mole among the group noticed him. "What is it, dragonfly?"

Sparx gestured to the Purple Dragon of Legend. "Spyro's alive," he said. "We need to bring him inside and get him help. We can still save him!" He pointed at Joshua, watching the pool of shadow underneath him intently—warily. "And Cynder needs your help. She can't take down that Ape alone!"

One of the two dragons in the group—an adolescent Electric dragon—frowned upon hearing the dragoness's name. He opened his snout to rebut Sparx's request, but the dragonfly had had enough of this discrimination. That's what got them into this mess in the first place and if the guards themselves couldn't set aside their personal feelings then there was just no way they'd be able to resolve this and help that fat lump in time. "Shut up!" he said, slamming his fist into the dragon's sensitive nose. "**My brother** is _dying_ over there and **his mate's** the only one trying to keep us all safe from that, that, t-that hoo-man **menace**! I _don't care_ if you hate her, but right now she needs all the help we can give. If that means getting **Spyro** out of here _and _making sure Cynder **kills** that furless **ape**, then let's do it. Don't just stand around here! Stop this crap and help before someone else dies."

The dragon steeled himself, standing attentively on all fours. "Yes, sir," he complied obediently, lapsing into instincts beaten into him through intense training and rigorous drills.

He fluttered in front of the group. "You, you, and you," Sparx said, identifying three moles. "Help Cynder." The two dragons and the other larger guards would just get in the way, he figured.

"Everyone else, let's go help Purple Boy!" The large group of city soldiers broke off from the main body hard at work stopping the civilians from "helping out" and finding themselves in over their heads. As Sparx led the entire group from the vanguard, a nonplussed expression of disbelief settled on his face for a moment.

Did he just take on a leadership role back there? Did he **really** just take charge and demanded their help? Him? A useless, golden lantern? Who could only talk and annoy everyone around him?

He glimpsed at the pack of courageous, armored guardsmen following him. A group comprised of atlawas, moles, cheetahs, and a couple dragons… all under **his **command? Him? A miniscule _dragonfly_?

Was this how it felt to be Spyro or Cynder? To be the Guardians? Was this how it felt to be treated with respect and reverence?

A smile spread on Sparx's face. _Not bad_, he thought. _Not bad at all, Sparx old boy. I'll never let ol' Chunky live this down._

Such buoyancy evaporated as they approached Spyro's body. He gulped, apprehensive. He was not used to the sight of his adopted brother lying down in a pitiful and helpless heap, for the few times he had seen Spyro the Dragon fall unconscious resulted from the Chronicler's meddling rather than anything related to whatever went on in real life.

.

.

.

"_Great crowd, huh?" Sparx quipped on the Skavenger ship. "I wonder if I can get 'em to do the wave…"_

"_Well done," squawked the orange parrot, flapping its reptilian wings. "well done, indeed." The reptavian gestured at the pre-adolescent Spyro. "Step forward, little dragon, and receive your glory."_

_The Purple Dragon raised his leg to take a step. Suddenly his eyes closed without warning and the child swooned. Nary had a sound came out of him, let alone a whisper or a telltale wheeze. _

_A purple parrot leaned out towards young Spyro, his left eye squinting at him. "You waiting for someone to move for you, boy?" A visible pout appeared on his beak. "Don't just stand there. This is no puppet show!"_

_Sparx resisted the urge to facepalm. "Oh no, not again!" _

_In the back of his mind, he knew something was happening to his brother behind the scenes. When Spyro blacked out at the Ancient Grove, Sparx noticed instantly how he had reclaimed his power over Ice when he woke up. Every time he fainted, he would wake up with another of his abilities unlocked and ready for use. But at the time, Spyro, obsessing over Cynder, had not bothered fully explaining these fainting spells to Sparx, let alone his interactions with the Chronicler. He passed it off instead as voices in his head, elucidating no further.  
_

_Not until after the War._

"_Don't worry!" Sparx flew forward. Spyro was going to wake up a more powerful and stronger dragon after this, but he had to make sure nobody touched his body while he slept and somehow unlocked his abilities in La La Land. "There's nothing to see here! It's all under control…" _

_._

_._

_._

But today was different.

Spyro's fall today **obviously** had nothing to do with the Chronicler. Back then, every time he fell, Sparx would find a peaceful expression on his muzzle every time he came close. A nice and relaxing sleep, however inopportune the aged historian tended to be.

Today, Sparx discovered a pained, agonized grimace. His teeth were laid bare for the dragonfly to see, provided Sparx could stomach the sight of all the blood streaking out of every hole on Spyro's head. He truly looked like he was dying.

If—no, _when_ he woke up from this, he wouldn't wake up and find himself a stronger dragon, with another Element, another overpowered ability in his treasure chest of powers. He'd wake up to be alive. Injured—_gravely_ injured at that, but alive.

_We need to do something_, Sparx thought, as he and the guards formed a circle around the fallen dragon. There was no way they were letting Baldie get near his brother again! _So now what? What can we do to…_

One of the guards started, "We need to move him—

"Duuuuhhhh," Sparx chided, rolling his eyes. "**I** knew that. But _how_? I don't know what Baldie did to Savior Boy here. I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life if we end up killing him by accident!" Not to mention what Cynder would do to **him** if she found out about it. The _best_ thing he could think of was spending the rest of his waking life in her mouth. There was no telling how _else_ she'd punish him. A damn evil-psycho-she-dragon was always a damn evil-psycho-she-dragon.

"Uhm, errrrr…."

Another soldier pointed at a nearby tree. At the one-winged dragoness slumped beneath it. "Hey, the child that Ape's brainwashed is still there."

"We need to move her too," suggested a third guard. "I've seen her fight. She's a _prodigy_. We can't let him take control again."

Sparx looked around and selected two atlawas at random. "You and you, pick her up and get her out of here!"

"Yes, sir." The guards nodded and left.

"Anyone here with medical experience?" drawled Spyro's brother. "You know, like a **dragon doctor**? I want to move Spyro too like the rest of you, but I don't want to take any chances with my brother until—

A shrill scream interrupted whatever he had to say.

Sparx whipped his line of sight to the left, where the clash between a terrified Joshua and an increasingly frustrated Cynder magnified, fast approaching its climax. The black dragoness finally reappeared, emerging from a cloud of black, thick smoke behind the hoo-man. Her tail lashed out for a kill; Joshua surprised the dragonfly once again, ducking before the sharp blade on Cynder's tail sliced through his neck. It was as though the furless ape had eyes in the back of his head!

Baldie yelled out of fright, turning towards the dragoness with all the timidity and cowardice of a child. Tears fell as he struggled to speak, to entreat. Yet all his words bubbled out as incomprehensible, insane gibberish. Sparx, however, noticed the white mist forming around his mouth. Another white breath! He had to warn Cynder—

She needed no assistance. The other Savior of the Dragon Realms glimpsed the oncoming threat and acted accordingly. She dug her feet into the ground and inhaled deeply, letting it all out in a lurid, strident scream. A red burst flashed from her body, striking the hoo-man a split-second before the white breath took shape and assaulted _her_. Sparx recognized this instantly as a variant of the Siren Scream, subjecting victims in close proximity to their greatest, most pressing fears. But to everyone else, it was merely an ear-splitting shriek. Astonishing, but hardly dangerous at all.

Joshua Renalia stood there, dazed. "W-where am I?" Eyes dilating from the hallucinations surely running through his addled mind. "W-w-w-w-what's going on? Damn it all, how did I—oh _shit_. Mom? Dad?"

Cynder, former Terror of the Skies, bared her sharp teeth at the hoo-man—every single one of them, a little yellowed and foul. She rose on her hind legs, rearing her right foreleg for a killing blow strong enough to knock the furless ape's head clean off his shoulders.

A voice of alarm interrupted her. "Malefor!"

Cynder hesitated at the name. She ogled her vulnerable prey. "W-wha…?"

"No!" Joshua Renalia visibly stepped back from Cynder, his gaze directed at her—no, directed **through** her, as though the Dark Master himself towered far above Spyro's mate. "Why are you here?" He shook his head. "Spyro and Cynder trapped you in the planet's core!" He gazed at an empty spot on the ground. Whatever he saw made him choke. "And… a-and, and how… how did you—

Sparx was dumbfounded. _Trapped_ him? How did he—that wasn't supposed to be public knowledge! That was classified, top-secret information! Kept only between the two Saviors, Sparx, and the three Guardians.

He gawped at Cynder. "Cursing Cynder again? For the **third time**? You f*cking bastard!" snarled Joshua, teeth chattering—knees clicking together in fright. Beads of water cascaded down his head; his entire body quavered fully with the knowledge he was _dead_ if he didn't do anything. "Goddammit, how far do you have to go before you're satisfied _ruining everyone's lives_?"

Wait.

Sparx did a double-take.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. **WAIT.**

Cynder had been cursed **again**?

AGAIN? **No**! That was wrong. How could—when did the Dark Master mess with Cynder? They freed her seven years ago, didn't they? She couldn't have been cursed a second time after Hunter and the Grublins released all three of them from the Time Crystal.

Sparx hollered at the grouchy she-dragon, petrified to the spot. "Yo, Cyn! Don't listen to him! He's tricking you. Baldie _knows_ he's seeing things. He _knows_ it's you and he's—

The haunted mien on her muzzle silenced the dragonfly. _Spirits. It's true. Holy balls, it's __**true**__!_

But they never told him.

Fatboy and Psycho kept it to themselves. Oh man, they never said anything about their trips into the Burned Lands, didn't they? If he remembered right, they mentioned Ignitus's heroic sacrifice quickly and concisely, embellished the climactic final battle, and narrated the story of Spyro and Cynder standing together at the literal end of the world.

"HOLY SHIIIIIIIT!" Baldie torqued on the spot and flung himself out of the way of an imaginary attack, his own eyes deluding him into believing the Dark Master had begun every effort to exterminate him.

He glanced at the stunned Cynder. What was he seeing? "I'm sorry. I can't do anything for you now," he said. "Ah! The Guardians! I need to find 'em pronto. They'll know what to do." He gulped. "Provided they're even here."

The hoo-man broke off into a sprint, indescribable trepidation emblazoned on his primate face. He zigzagged as he dashed closer, towards the city, towards Spyro's body as well as Sparx and his ensemble of guards. Several times he sent fleeting glances over his shoulder. Damn it, what was he _seeing_? He nearly barreled into the three moles Sparx had sent to assist Cynder—almost charged straight into a waiting blade.

"F*ck me!" cried the furless ape. He made his best attempt to squeeze past the three city guards, but one raised his sword and sent the weapon flying downwards. It sliced Joshua's shoulder clean, and he tumbled to the grass screaming.

Before they could do anything else, the white cloak appeared from thin air and obscured him from sight. All three moles jumped back, remembering what had happened to the tree the thick clouds _touched_.

Barely a second passed before Joshua emerged from the clouds. "NO! I'M NOT DYING HERE!" A hand gripped a mole by the face. The sight of the poor guard shriveling into decay and the serious wound regenerating before his very eyes rendered Sparx speechless.

The second mole roared a battle cry and brandished his sword with the intent to thrust into his neck. "Goddamn f*cking _grublins_!" Joshua pummeled the man on the snout. "Get the f*ck away from me!"

Another white flash. Followed by a stream of white clouds engulfing his third opponent.

The second guard dropped dead, his entire head turned into a horrible, swollen, black thing. And like Spyro, blood poured from all orifices in his head.

The state of the third guard was the most horrendous of them all. Sparx looked him over from the distance. "Ayiiiiiiiiii!"

He was down, unmoving. Lifeless and dead like the other two. But unlike them, his entire body had gone black from death. The smell of rot permeated the air, and much of the mole's body had swollen to one-and-a-half times its original size.

Sparx made the connection instantly. Anything afflicted with this black… _something_ was **completely** **dead**!

Cynder gasped, the three deaths enough to snap her back from the revelation of Malefor manifesting himself in Joshua's illusory world. The green tinge of poison stained her wing fingers—her claws, and with a movement aided by an innovative combination of the Wind and Shadow Elements, launched herself directly at Joshua Renalia's back.

Yet somehow, someway, the hoo-man performed the impossible. He squealed from terror and picked up a shield from one of the fallen guards. He rounded up on Cynder _instantly_ and blocked her strike. "Agggghhh!" he shouted not a cry of anger, but a cry of terror and pity. White, translucent mist gushed out of his mouth in response, enveloping Cynder as it did that poor soldier.

The first name that came to mind spilled out of Sparx's mouth. "GROUCHY!" He made to fly out there in blind panic, envisioning the image of a black dragoness with glassy eyes, cold to the touch and utterly dead with an unsullied body. Both Saviors, down. One, dead; and the other, just clinging to life by the tip of her horns.

What did they do to deserve this? They—

A furry hand blocked Sparx's progress. One of the guards surrounding him stopped the dragonfly from heading out there, to certain death. "It's too dangerous!" he yelled. "Don't go out there!"

"But… but…!"

Cynder's voice cut him off. "Uugggghhh, what did you **do** to me?" she said, wobbling back and forth across the grass. "I can't see—Ancestors, I can't **hear** my own voi—URP!" The dragoness collapsed, crumpling on all fours before vomiting continuously. "URRRRLLLKKK!"

"I'm sorry! But Malefor's getting closer!" Joshua turned his back on her. "I'm **so** sorry!" He took the opportunity to flee, still zigzagging and even skipping and jumping along the ground with the shield in hand, probably imagining he's in a dark castle or an underground fortress. He even rolled and dove around, doing his very best to evade hazards visible only to his eyes.

Spirits, was he **still** hallucinating all this? How potent _were _Cynder's Fear breaths?

"OH MY F*CKING GOD!" Joshua shouted, his dilated emerald eyes staring at the one-winged dragon being cradled in the arms of an atlawa. "Kilat! Why are you here? You're not supposed to be in this place! Why—oh f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!"

He switched direction and made a beeline straight for the two guards. "Let go of her, you sick Apes!" The atlawas ignored him, instead fleeing _faster_ to apparent safety behind the walls of Warfang. Anxiety crosses Joshua's face. "Stop!"

Joshua growled. "I said stop!" At his command, two spheres formed above his shoulders and released two white beams of light. Both atlawas were hit in the back. They subsequently fell. Had Sparx been close by, he would've seen both their torsos become dark and swollen.

"We need to stop this," Sparx heard the Electric dragon mutter.

"This is getting out of control," another guard said. More among those close to the dragonfly nodded to each other.

"Guys, wait!" protested Sparx. "What about Spyro? We need to carry him out of—

Before he could articulate further, both adolescent dragons leaped into the skies. Two more guards on standby also decided to act, springing to action at the same time. They jumped into the fray, drawing their weapons from their sheaths.

Sparx stared at the dying dragon. He didn't want to risk his life helping him, but Baldie's continued survival was giving him little choice in the matter. "You three," he said. "Pick Spyro up and let's carry him into Warfa—

"JESUS F*CKING CHRIST!"

The dragonfly rotated towards Joshua, who he saw stumbling along the dirt road. The round, metal shield he scavenged from the dead mole rolled to a stop far away from him, as one of the teenage dragons circled back from behind and inhaled, releasing a blast of orange fire.

"Fffffffuuuuuuuu—!" Joshua raised his hand and swung it in the direction of a cheetah trying to sneak up on him from the side. The flames followed suit, slamming into the soldier.

The final atlawa from Sparx's group of soldiers lumbered slowly to the hoo-man, a massive Warhammer in hand. He raised the gigantic weapon and pounded it down, hoping to crush Joshua beneath it.

"Shit-shit-shit-shit!" He slipped away and moved closer to the guard, hyperventilating. He was as a cornered animal, desperately reaching for salvation. He kicked the atlawa in the shin as he moved, causing another white flash that turned his **entire leg** black. The massive man fell to the ground and rolled, clutching the afflicted limb in agony. If Sparx understood this correctly, this meant he would never have use of his leg again.

The second dragon flew in from the front, a great net of electricity blasting the hoo-man where he stood. To his dismay, the white shield appeared and blocked—nullified the Element. Worse, the shield shimmered after enduring the attack and released white lances of light, targeting the two dragons guarding the sky. Sparx did not see what had happened to them—he assumed they were dead—because, worst of all, Joshua Renalia suddenly **vanished**.

"Where is he?" yelled the three moles behind him. "Where'd the Ape go?"

Sparx fluttered towards the city. He couldn't see Joshua. He couldn't smell Joshua. He couldn't find a trace of him. He had completely and utterly disappeared, and Spirits knew where the accursed person went. He turned to the guards struggling to carry Spyro the Dragon into the city. "C'mon, fellas, hurry up! Double time, double time!"

"We're… ugh, w-we're, murrr, trying! But your 'brother' is… h-**heavy**!"

Once a fat, purple lump, **always** a fat, purple lump. No wonder he and Cynder were _perfect_ for each other. Those two simply never changed! "Remind me to smack him a new one and put him on a diet when he wakes up."

Sparx glanced back. Miss Grouchy still lied where she dropped, managing to suppress her body's urge to regurgitate her lunch. Some of the other guards were helping Infernus up, whose scrunched snout looked irked beyond all description and completely incapable of using his two blackened legs. The other soldiers had begun ushering away what citizens had stayed behind to watch the spectacle, scattering them to either the farms or a part of the wall farther away from combat. No longer were they pushing people to the Gates of Warfang, not when a team was carrying a wounded VIP into the City of Dragons.

He wondered what happened to the furless ape. There was no sign of him. Nothing! "He some sort of ninja?" he asked himself, trying to find some rational explanation for the way Joshua literally vanished in thin air. It had to be connected to that dangerous ability of his. He absorbed the Spirit Gems like a dragon. He could… sort of… control the Elements like a dragon—_all_ the known Elements, too. He possessed no control over his power at all, but even then it became more responsive when…

When he suffered from fear?

When he grew more determined?

When he got angry?

When…

.

.

.  
When… what?

Sparx vigorously abraded his head. "AGGGGHH!" _I got nothing! How can we stop him if we can't even figure out—_

Gasps from the moles carrying Spyro's body behind him dragged the dragonfly away from his thoughts, alerting him to the hoo-man's abrupt reappearance right next to the dragon child ahead, between the two dead atlawas. Mouth agape, Sparx was too stunned to say anything, let alone stutter and stammer.

He watched Joshua Renalia pick up the Electric dragoness, cradling her in his brown arms like a newborn baby. He spoke to the little girl—_whispered_ to her as he poked her golden scales. The child stirred. Barely conscious, she gave it her best shot to say something, only to fail.

Joshua focused his attention on Sparx's little procession. The dragonfly hovered back slightly, apprehensive. He blinked. The terror in Joshua's eyes was evident, and from the way he talked—the way he moved, Sparx knew Cynder's Siren Scream had not worn off yet. "Is, i-is that, Spyro? What's_—_oh my God, **Sparx**, too? W-wha… why—

He sauntered closer to the five of them. "This, t-this is Malefor's castle. How in God's name are you—

"Aieeeeee!" cried one of the moles.

"Every mole for himself!" the guardsman dropped Spyro and scampered away, bolting from the scene.

Sparx watched the remaining two do the same. "W-w-w-wait, hold on, guys! You can't just leave me—you can't just abandon our Savior! Guys? _Guys_!"

They ran away, the both of them. "Damn it, you cowards! Come back! Get your furry asses back here right now or Spirits help me I'll sic **Cynder** at—

A shadow loomed over Sparx.

"—both of, you…"

He turned. Baldie towered above him, gaping at the slumped body behind the insect. "Spyro," he murmured. "He can't be here. Impossible! This is Earth. Spyro's back in…"Joshua's voice faltered; he bit his lower lip. "_Jesus._ I'm still in the Dragon Realms, aren't I?"

A second passed. The dilation in his eyes faded away, and Joshua's relentless shivering yielded to poignant horror. Sheer, heartbreaking emotion. He wheezed, he _whimpered_ at the sight of the carnage he caused. Eight city guards dead. Cynder, down and incapable of standing upright. "Holy f*cking shit." Sparx watched him bring the child closer to him. He hugged the dragoness like a doll, as though trying to eke out as much warmth as he could from her small body. "I, I-I… I… I thought…"

Whatever he thought had to wait. Joshua Renalia looked at the dying Spyro again. He straightened his posture and steeled his face—his nerves. The furless ape approached his brother, defenseless and at the enemy's mercy. None of the other guards wanted to go near them, not after the cowardice so properly demonstrated by three of their own.

Sparx spread his arms in a valiant but pitiful endeavor to defend Chunky, pressing himself up against the Purple Dragon's scales. _I'm not gonna run_, he swore to Spyro. He always ran away because he was useless, because all he could do was talk, pester Spyro, and annoy Cynder. He couldn't fight. He couldn't punch the daylights out of his opponent. _Not when you need me, brother._ They were family.

And family always stuck together, no matter what.

_I'll never abandon you!_

Joshua loomed menacingly above the adopted brothers. Sparx suppressed every urge to fly away. If they were going to die here, then so be it. At least they were together in the end, the two of them. The dragonfly stared into those emerald eyes. It was his last act of defiance, willingly looking certain death in the eye. A mere ant, standing strong against the adversity of the entire world around it.

Despite all the mental exercises Sparx had put his mind through, the mewling of a little girl dissolved his entire fortitude like sand.

"Please, don't, leave me, Jo-Joshua. I, need you…"

Only then did the dragonfly realize the furless ape had done nothing to him. Instead, he had placed the Electric dragoness close to Spyro's chest. The child was barely conscious, but at least she was cognizant enough to reach for Joshua the moment his hands left her body.

Perplexed, Sparx watched the hoo-man take her paw. He rubbed it, stroking even the paw pads. "I promise you, Kilat, I won't. We'll **always** be together, okay?"

Kilat smiled, the child's blue eyes fixed on the furless ape and him alone. "Ooooookay," she said and slowly closed her eyes. "Together…"

The young man turned to him before making any move on Spyro. He took a deep breath. "Sparx, I—

Sparx desperately tried to claw back his resolve. He mustn't fall for this deception! For all he knew, this was a trick and the hairless ape planned to finish his brother off. "No!" he resisted. "I'm not letting you anywhere near my brother, you stupid, bald ape!"

"Sparx—

"Baldie!"

"I just want to help—

He looked up at Joshua, eyes a little damp. "Spyro doesn't need your '_help_'!"

"Yes, he **does**!" The hoo-man growled, scratching his head. "Argh, forget it. Arguing with you is a f*cking waste of time." He made a move for Spyro's bleeding head.

Sparx shut his eyes and flustered his wings as much as he could. He sprung from his spot, fist extended. He hoped he hit Baldie's nose. A bad nosebleed was the least he should suffer from for ignoring Spyro's one and only brother.

Regretfully, Sparx had a horrendous aim from the very start. He flew well past Joshua's face, far off the mark. It wasn't until a few seconds had lapsed when the dragonfly realized his grave error. _**Never**__ should've closed my eyes in the first place!_ He gyrated and faced Joshua. He was horrified to discover he already had his hands all over Spyro's muzzle.

"Oh man! I missed. I actually **missed**!" The dragonfly reprimanded himself for this mistake. Promising never to repeat this embarrassing blunder again, Sparx flew down to finally engage Joshua Renalia in combat, with all the odds stacked against him…

Then he stopped in midair.

Baldie had done nothing to Spyro. Instead he had Purple Boy's head on his lap, viridian eyes inspecting the damage he inadvertently inflicted on the poor, fat dragon. "I did this," Sparx heard him ramble. "I did this. I did this to him…"

The furless ape began palpitating when his hands came into contact with the slick blood trickling out of Spyro's head. He trembled, even as he finally raised the scaly muzzle and gave it an inspection much too close for Sparx's comfort. "Veins and capillaries all over his head had burst," Joshua murmured. "Hemorrhaging 'round his neck—his ears—his nose—his throat—his eyes. Bleeding's lessened, but hasn't stopped at all."

The dragonfly latched onto every word. Whether Baldie could be trusted was no longer a concern. Not right now. He just wanted to know if Spyro was going to be okay. "And? And, and? What does all that mumbo-jumbo mean?"

"It means..." It took a couple seconds for him to complete his response. "It means he's **really** close to dying." The furless ape hissed. "Oh f*cking hell. At the rate his life's fading, I'd peg it at a couple minutes at best."

"A-a-a, a **couple** **minutes**!" If Sparx had hair on his bare scalp, by now he'd be tearing off clumps of it. "Arrrrggghh! That's, t-tha, that's…!"

For all the snark Sparx had in mind, for all the facility and ease he could blabber his mouth for hours on end, the dragonfly couldn't finish his sentence.

He was lost.

Spellbound by the thought of losing Savior Boy forever. That he would lose a loved one today… it devastated Sparx.

It reminded him of the days following the War, the days he and Spyro realized what exactly used to be the Burned Lands. Disquiet gnawed at their hearts, for back then it had been a little over three years since they last spoke with their parents. To their best recollection, Sparx, Purple Boy, and that She-Devil never glimpsed another dragonfly after they escaped the Catacombs with Hunter.

Together, the three of them spent weeks—**months!**—searching for the dragonfly colony. They scoured the Valley of Avalar, passed over the Dry Canyon, asked help from the Atlawas in the Tall Plains, and revisited the Shattered Vale. Spyro and Sparx sought out their family even while they combed the unknown lands, seeking hidden settlements of dragons taking refuge from a war long finished.

Nearly a year and a half passed before they finally received news from a traveling merchant—a faun, the first of their kind to be seen in Warfang. She mentioned a young colony of dragonflies thriving in the Summer Forest, a large laurel forest situated next to her homeland in Fracture Hills.

All the melancholy and sorrow Sparx and that fat lump suffered through consecutive, fruitless endeavors vanished. During a diplomatic trip aimed at establishing trade relations with Fracture Hills, their rising hopes blossomed into genuine relief and happiness when the two of them finally reunited with their parents in the forest, where they were safe, unharmed, and to the dragonfly's jealousy, boasting another set of children to love.

He didn't want to experience that feeling of loss again. He hated that bereavement, and the dreary hopelessness that accompanied it.

Despondency dazzled in Sparx's eyes when he looked up at the hoo-man. "Can't… can't you do anything for Spyro?"

"What do you **think** I've been trying to do?" Baldie snapped at him, the teenager's expression as conflicted and pained as his.

"But you're just holding his head. You're not doing _anything_!"

"Yes, I, **am**!" came the frustrated response. Joshua gnarred. "I'm looking for where he's bleeding the most."

The internal clock in Sparx's head slowly ticked down to his brother's doom. "We're running out of time!"

"You think I don't f*cking **know** that?" Joshua used his fingers to push Spyro's eyes open. Sparx flinched at the way it was covered in crimson. "I can _feel_ his life ebbing away **second by second**! You don't have to tell me—

Joshua pried the dragon's teeth apart, and he recoiled at the dark red blood that rolled from his jaw and soiled his pants. "OH F*CK ME!"

He forced Spyro's mouth wider, lifted up the head, and looked into his mouth. Joshua sniffled, the smell of gore alone bringing tears to the hoo-man's eyes. Sparx fretfully watched him pull on Purple Boy's tongue and inspect the throat.

"Well?" He asked. No response.

Tick-tick-tick-tick.

"Well?" He asked again.

"Nothing." Joshua shook his head. "F*cking nothing! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, I can't figure it out. I don't know where he's hurting the most. It's horrible **everywhere**—

Sparx whined, "But you said you can fix him!"

"I **can**, damn it! I **can **fix this!" Joshua punched the ground next to him, aggravated and panicked. "I can fix this. I can fix this. I **know** I can fix this…"

Tick-tick-tick-tick.

Then the horrid wheezing began.

His brother started taking deep, long breaths. "Joshua, do something." Each one brought Spyro closer to death, and Sparx didn't have to be a medical specialist to know this. "Anything!"

"Come on," Baldie muttered to himself. "Come on, come on, come onnnnnn. You were able to heal Kilat. You saved her. You can fix this. C'mon, Joshua, you gotta do this. Spyro's your hero. You can't let him die—

Sparx's ears registered his murmurs as incoherent rambling. They were quickly running out of time, and despite that Joshua Renalia looked like he spaced out, unable to even watch Spyro go limp. Incensed, he flew directly in front of the furless ape and punched him in the nose. "Baldie, stop spacing out and _help my brother_!"

In the end, the dragonfly **did **give him a bad nosebleed. "Sparx, what the **f*ck**!" Joshua glared at him. "I was _nearly there_! Then you just knocked me out of concentration. If I can't get my damn Element to work, I won't be able to—

The words flew around Sparx but none entered his head. He zeroed in on the white glow illuminating the hoo-man's hands. "AAAAAHHHHHH!"

A golden finger directed both their attentions on the glowing light on Spyro's head.

"Christ, what're you on ab—OH F**************CCCCCCK!"

"Spirits, what are you _doing_?"

"**I DON'T KNOW!** It just turned on by itself!"

"I wanted you to help Spyro!"

"But that's what I wanted, too!"

"Then why are you **killing** him?"

"The hell I am! If I wanted him dead, I would've—

Sparx tuned Baldie out. He had to stop him. He had to stop Joshua before he _really_ finished off his brother. But he didn't want those clouds to—

"Sparx," Joshua voiced. "Sparx, wait—

Wait. His hands! He needed to push his hands away. Sparx flew down to the furless ape's fingers.

"Sparx, I've got good—

"AHHHH!" The dragonfly made the loudest battle cry he ever mustered from his tiny lungs and rammed Joshua's wrist with all his might.

"GUH!"

Joshua removed his left wrist and waved it in the air. "Goddammit, you're just a dragonfly. How did—

Sparx ignored him. He glared at the other hand, ogled the white glow accelerating his brother's murder. _Deceive me, huh? You're not making a fool out of this golden boy._ He prepared to make another suicidal collision on the young man's arm.

But Joshua acted seconds before he did, moving his right hand away before the dragonfly made a move. "H-huh?"

"—elling you, he's fine," Joshua's voice reached him. "Sparx, he's doing better!"

"W, what do you mean 'he's doing better'?" He inspected the mauve snout. Still as bloody as ever. "He's still looks terrible!"

"Focus on his breathing, dude."

Sparx couldn't help remarking, "You mean his _dying breaths_? Oh man, you can't honestly be…"

The change in the dragon's condition was so noticeable he almost fell from the air from incredulity. "Whoa, Whoa, whoa, _whoa_, he **is** doing better!" Sparx turned to Joshua. "Baldie, what did you do?"

He shrugged his shoulders. Sparx did not understand his body language, and he would've told him to just spit it out, but the furless ape beat him to it. "I don't know," he said. "I don't really know _anything _about my Element. I can barely get it to work most of the time." He reviewed the muzzle again. "I don't know why my Element activated just like _that_, and I've no idea why he isn't fully healed like the last time I got my stupid power to do this. But as far as I can tell, Spyro's stabilized; the bleeding's stopped."

"So does that mean—

"There's **still** a risk of him dying," Joshua admitted. "But **definitely** not in the next few minutes. Not anymore. He's got a day, give or take, if nothing's done. Sooooo, if you rush Spyro to a hospital—

"What the _heck's_ a hospital?"

"—as soon as possible and get him some _real help_, I bet he'll come out of this just fine."

At those words, Sparx the Dragonfly felt his wings slow down. He drifted onto Spyro's head, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Ohhhhhhhh, _thank_ the Spirits he's gonna be okay…"

So did Joshua. "Thank God." He turned to the resting Kilat, shuffling to pick her up. "That's one less thing to worry about," he said. A hand motioned towards her outstretched paw. He wrapped his palm around it. "All right, Kilat. I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere, see?"

Sparx did not hear her reply. Instead, he tilted his head to the furless ape, who once again had the young dragoness in his arms. She cuddled into him, and for some reason, he found it cute. "You know, Baldie, for a hairless ape, I guess you're not so bad after all."

Joshua sighed. "So… can you help me out here?" he asked, obviously referring to the whole mess he was in. "I'd prefer it if Kilat and I live here in Warfang over roughing it out there in the Autumn Plains."

Sparx cocked his gaze towards Cynder. Struggling to stand, she had recovered somewhat from whatever Joshua had done to her. The unease in her eyes was plain to see, knowing Joshua had been right next to her mate. The guards were still watching them from a distance, holding back the crowds. A mixture of fear and doubt comprised both groups' expressions, and Infernus… well, Sparx could care less about him.

"Tell you what," he said. "I'll vouch for you when Cyn catches up with us, and you can make your case to the Guardians. I know Spyro boy's going to be mad, but even _he's_ got to face the fact you helped him."

"Really?" Worry, even guilt, flashed on his face. "But I… I killed—

Sparx pounded the boy's chest. "Don't get me wrong, hoo-man boy! They **will **put you through hell for _that_." Whether he did it out of self-defense, or whether he had the ability to control it, didn't matter. Lives were still lost to **his **power, so the burden of reparations fell on his shoulders. At the very least, he did not deserve something as death or miserable imprisonment. "But with the three of us backing you up, those old boys will let you live in the city _with_ your little sister there. That much I can tell you."

It took a moment for Joshua Renalia to process this; a smile broke out when he did. "T-thank you," Joshua Renalia said. "Thank you so much. You don't know how happy I am to hear that."

"Heh, don't mention it. Spyro was _definitely _wrong about you. This is the least I can do after you proved him—

"**Now!** Ancestors, get him now!"

Sparx bolted at the voice. Spirits, that was Infernus! Where—

Joshua rolled away, in time to avoid a rock from crushing his head. "Crap! Not **again**." How he just sensed these things, Sparx would never understand.

He watched the furless ape raise his hand to flick a second one-ton boulder coming up at him, fast. He lashed the palm away from the two of them, only to see the massive stone keep on going. _Oh man, it's 'cause he's more relaxed now!_

Joshua dropped Kilat instantly and braced himself. "Oh heeeeelllll!" Distress must have compelled the hoo-man to make what appeared to be a useless, futile attempt to swat the attack away. Otherwise, the boulder would never have been diverted _away_ from them in one hit, flogging the nearby grass.

Unfortunately, both Joshua Renalia and Sparx failed to notice a _third _boulder immediately following behind the rock that had just been deflected. The dragonfly watched the young man receive one nasty hit in the chest. He heard something **snap** as the momentum sent Baldie flying into the air.

.

.

.

Right where Infernus wanted him. "You demolished my legs. You even razed my _little dragon_!" The thundery crack of an explosion announced his arrival as the burly Fire Dragon crashed into Joshua, swamped in that terrifying, blue fire. "I will **END **you!"

Violently, he hammered his largest horns into the furless ape, knocking him up. Rather than letting the momentum carry Joshua, the vermilion dragon went farther than this. He draped his forelegs around his battered, struggling body, and even sunk his teeth into his shoulder. With everything from the waist down blackened, this was the only thing he could do to take hold.

Dumbfounded at the Guardian Candidate's obstinacy, Sparx watched the Infernus haul a bloodied and screaming Joshua Renalia to the center of eight city guards. Two of each Element. **All** of them dragons he recognized from the Warfang Temple, ranked as mid-level Apprentices.

Before the dragonfly even processed what was happening before him, as soon as the Guardian Candidate touched down all eight dragons took deep breaths and flooded his position with a great deluge of all four Elements. A brief exposure to an onslaught of that magnitude was going to _hurt_ Infernus, but it wouldn't kill a dragon of _his_ caliber. A tired, exhausted, and wounded individual like Joshua, on the other hand?

That furless ape was as good as—

A massive white cloud erupted from the center of the group. It was dense, Sparx saw. Denser than even the cloak that enveloped Joshua earlier. He swore it looked no different than the thick, seemingly impenetrable cloudbanks infesting the skies on dark, stormy days.

Not a sound escaped the group during this eruption. The roaring breaths ground to a halt instantly, leaving behind an eerie, unfathomable silence.

Seconds passed.

_Two minutes_ passed.

When the great, white nebula finally diffused and revealed the scene it obscured, Sparx croaked from absolute horror.

**All **nine dragons caught in the attack were slumped on the ground, dead.

Yet none of them bore visible signs of injury or trauma. There was no bleeding. No discoloration at all.

It was as if…

As if their very lives were snuffed out the second those clouds touched them. Like candles blown away by the wind. Like a god had descended upon them at the moment they judged Joshua Renalia and decided they **all **had to die, intervening directly with an invisible scythe in hand.

Joshua stood alone. His body was spotless. Clean. As though he'd never been hurt in the first place.

"They're dead!" one of the bystanders cawed.

"I-I-Infernus!" exclaimed a dragon—it was Rimeer, the Ice Dragon Cynder had earlier incapacitated. He must've woken up in time to witness this tragedy. "By the Ancestors, **INFERNUS IS DEAD**!"

People left and right began to scream. Coals of terror once again burned among the crowds, stoked by the ghastly and impossible sight of Warfang's best biting the dust.

Joshua tried to say something. "I, I didn't mean it," he said. "He attacked me first! My body—m-my Ele—my power just did something!"

None listened. Most of the civilians absconded from the place, hurrying into the Gates.

"God! C'mon, be _reasonable_. Calm down! _That's not my fault!_ Infernus—

"—is dead! a cheetah interrupted him, gritting his teeth. The guard brandished a bow and slid one steel arrow into the notch.

On its release, Joshua winced. Upon stepping back, the white aegis appeared before him in defense. As soon as the arrow entered the shield…

…the projectile **penetrated** a barrier that blocked off all the known Elements and struck Joshua in the upper arm before he could even dodge it completely. "AGH!"

Random voices from all the remaining guards piped up. "Malefor's servant or not…"

"…your fault or not…"

Rimeer concluded, "You are a danger to **everyone** around you. You need to be put down."

"F*ck my life!" Joshua cried. "Sparx, help me out here!"

But Sparx was no longer by Spyro's unconscious body.

"Sparx?"

For the dragonfly, too, screamed at the top of his lungs at the appalling image of so many dragons lying dead around Joshua Renalia. As he shrieked, the tiny brain in his head realized this cycle of revenge and misunderstanding wasn't going to stop until he brought someone with true authority. Someone unbiased. Someone who could judge this fairly.

"Damn it! _Sparx_, where'd you go?"

With haste, he had gone back into the City of Warfang, soaring above the walls. Sparx the Dragonfly had only the Temple in his sights.

He needed to get the Guardians involved, and quickly!

They'd know how to stop this madness…

They'd know how to resolve this…

Before many more people start falling, their eyes a lifeless glass.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Got to admit, Joshua's got one overpowered and _very _flexible power. Who knew Cynder's Fear breath opened Pandora's Box like this? As it happens, the psychological repercussions of being struck by the Fear Element **meshes** **very well** with the requirements I've set for Joshua to control the Unknown Element.

Anyway, I was so surprised that a lot of you thought I killed off Spyro when I concluded the previous chapter. Better learn how to read more carefully, people! I threw in **multiple** hints pointing to Spyro actually still being alive—the biggest among them being the fact his muzzle and neck weren't necrotic like the Alpha Death Hound after Joshua punched it in a similar location.

Honestly, as much as I want to kill him off and get an entire city pissed off at Joshua, I honestly can't. There's nothing more satisfying than introducing a natural animosity between Spyro and Joshua and writing out the consequences in future updates. Many Spyro fics featuring humans in the Dragon Realms tend to portray the human OC and Spyro being buddy-buddy very quickly, so killing him off so soon after introducing him won't let me deconstruct this.

Plus, I need Spyro for the chapters that won't feature Joshua as the main character—and yes, that **will** be happening. Warfang has plenty of things to worry about, after all.

Also, I'd like to address Somebodynobody10's review. You do raise a fair point and it _certainly_ dilutes the meaning of "suspense" if I kept on beleaguering the reader with constant hints of things "getting worse", as you say. Thing is, this story arc is nearing its conclusion and to anyone reading this, it's painfully obvious how I plan for things to resolve.

See, I'm actually more concerned with the events that come _after_ Joshua moves into Warfang. The word "suspense" ultimately revolves around a lingering, unresolved uncertainty, and I'm definitely going to keep _that_ up for as much as I can, at least when it comes to the matters I am most concerned with. I don't plan on offering any foreshadowing or hints on that, especially in my end-chapter notes.

Before concluding this lengthy note, I wish to thank **badasslizard** and **rhetorical irony** for being my beta readers for this chapter. I rarely ask help from betas, but working with Sparx had been very, **very **difficult for me. Working with canon characters in a fandom I'm not _that_ familiar with is difficult. =_=; If Sparx feels OOC to you, that's because of my unfamiliarity with the character and probably a lack of strength in the narration.

Finally, I also want to apologize to my readers. I failed to keep this chapter short. The word count is a little bit longer than 10K, slightly above the maximum limit I've set for _Aimless_. I couldn't find anything to delete, and I am frustrated that I had to publish it this way. But rest assured, I'll figure out a way to shorten the remainder of this story arc so we can get back on track. I'll do my best to keep things short and sweet in the updates ahead; I'm itching to get into the real reason why I started this story in the first place. :)

See y'all in the next chapter.


	16. Misunderstood

**Chapter 16: Misunderstood**

* * *

"_Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied."_

\- Pearl S. Buck

* * *

It was not supposed to happen this way.

When Cynder attacked the human, she expected the whole affair to be done and over with in a blink of an eye. His body language pointed to a sheltered upbringing. He knew no fighting, and demonstrated very little control over his power, that strange magic. Her _Phantom Fright_ addled his mind with irrational, paralyzing terror, restricting him further.

By all accounts—by the grace of the Ancestors, Joshua Renalia should've been a corpse, his bloody neck dangling from her jaw.

Instead, he proved immune to the Fear Element.

Instead, his power bloomed, thriving in his artificial dread.

Joshua overwhelmed her with abilities she had never come across in her life, accomplishing feats that cast doubt on whether his power was truly magic, or something else entirely. He manipulated _her_ Poison as if it had been his own, just as he'd done with Spyro's four Elements. He _penetrated_ her Shadows, nullified her Winds, and became impervious to surprise.

All her attempts to blindside the human failed. He avoided whenever she attacked from a blind spot. When she slipped into the shadows to get behind him, he sidestepped, sometimes threw himself away before Cynder could come at him, or spit something at him before he seized control.

Ancestors, the battle was insane. Joshua tracked not only her every movement, but also every use of her Elements. Worst of all, his power was so potent—so lethal she couldn't risk _anything_. Joshua was not some weakling she could rush in, take down, and kill while enduring minimal damage from its spells or its attacks. She couldn't forget how he dealt with Spyro and Infernus.

"Minimal damage" meant instant paralysis. It meant losing a limb. It meant _mortal wounds_. Spyro's bleeding head, the withered tree, and a few spots of dead grass flashed in her mind as she attacked, rendering her incapable of optimal performance. The echoes of danger washing over Cynder reminded her of Convexity.

Reminded her of _Malefor_. Of the climactic battle in the Burned Lands.

Unprepared.

Confused.

Afraid.

These feelings coursed through Cynder—surged throughout her entire being the moment she realized every attack Joshua made would instantly kill, the moment he saw the Dark Master himself in his illusions—and revealed an intimate secret kept _only_ between her and Spyro… in _**public**_.

The second Savior of the Dragon Realms wanted him to stop, before this insanity continued. Before the losses mounted higher and higher. Regrets screamed the second Joshua _breathed_ a white mist at her. She had seen what it did to that tree—to that mole.

Cynder believed she was going to die on the spot, killed by someone who didn't want to fight—who _couldn't _fight, who _still wanted to help Spyro_. Maybe she should've given him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she should've given him a second chance.

What happened next terrified her.

Because the world vanished, and it took **everything** with it.

The furless ape enduring her attack behind a shield.

The city guards glaring fearfully at Joshua, and a mixture of disgust and respect at Cynder.

The residents and visitors observing them, frightened and panic at the fallen, bloody body of the legendary Purple Dragon.

All of it disappeared, leaving Cynder in a cold and lonely darkness. She recoiled from shock; and with everything pitch-black—as though the dragoness had never been born with eyes—she didn't notice what else she lost until she drew in a deep breath and focused on her ears.

Two **big** mistakes.

For absolute silence and an almost complete desolation reigned supreme in this nightmare. Blind, deaf, and anosmic, the world as Cynder knew it had cast her away.

The air she breathed went through her nostrils, but it carried none of the smells, of the odors she had grown used to in the years she spent here, living with Spyro at the Warfang Temple. It was **lifeless**. She couldn't smell the lingering scent of the flowers. Disorientation took root when she sought the soil's earthy odor and failed to find it. Even the pungent aromas of Warfang's various residents were absent. Where was the dry odor of the cheetahs? Or the noisome spiciness of the Atlawas? Where was the disgusting funk the Moles exuded, or even the piquant tang of dragonkind?

Lost, Cynder desperately tried to ground herself in the violent combat or alarmed panic that would surely follow her fall. She sought the hurried footsteps, the frantic yelling, the enraged cries, or even the clash of metal upon metal, or metal ripping flesh apart.

Cynder found nothing. But before the undisturbed quiet threw her off, before the horror of losing _both_ her sight and sense of smell set in, vertigo attacked—slammed waves upon waves of dizziness upon her.

The world did not vanish, and she grabbed whatever solace she could from the fact it did not cast her out. Yet all her relief paled before the reality of her situation, for the Savior had been pushed away—shoved away from the world and now she held on for dear life with nothing but a thin, fragile rope.

Sickness had fallen. Whatever Joshua did to her sapped all her energy—drained it all!—and replaced it with the agonizing pain of exhaustion. Of weakness.

"Uugggghhh," she groaned. "What did you **do** to me? I can't see—Ancestors!" No. No, she couldn't. No, not this. Her ears didn't even register the words she knew was coming out of her mouth. Overtaken by the stillness of the world around her, she panicked. "I can't **hear** my own voi—

Cynder was glancing left and right, but she didn't know if her body even moved in the right direction. Then what little remained of her world shuddered. It wobbled as the agony in her stomach erupted. She collapsed, unable to tolerate this. The fright, the trepidation Cynder suffered yielded to a more physical distress. Then all four of her legs buckled. She went on her knees and wretched, regurgitating everything she had for lunch that day. "URRRRLLLKKK!"

As she wretched and writhed from her anguish, she felt a hand on her scales, palming the crest on her forehead. The human had the nerve to touch her after incapacitating her into utter powerlessness! But with this unbearable darkness snuffing everything out—the sun, the grass, the city, its people—sight, smell, and sound—despite her indignation Cynder's snarls (if she ever snarled at all) were reduced into pathetic, fraught whimpering and she focused on it, rubbed her head on it while the young man spent a few seconds talking, vibrating the air long and close enough to know he was addressing her. Yet she could not understand him, with her hearing _in absentia_.

Joshua Renalia then took away his hand—her last lifeline to the world around her, leaving the black dragoness to squirm—to thrash about in the grass, next to her own filth.

She was vulnerable.

She was **helpless**.

And she was surrounded by people who were either ambivalent or hostile towards her. Cynder was at their mercy, as was Spyro. Tremendous anxiety consumed the dragoness. Her breathing quickened; she felt her heart beat rapidly in tandem, but the silence in her ears—the thumping she could no longer hear—worried her.

Thoughts of a blade sliding into her body or Joshua having his way with the people of Warfang fueled all her attempts to move her body. Cynder's muscles quaked while she struggled to stand, to get on her paws. Warfang needed their Saviors, more than ever. The images of dead guards, of Infernus' black leg, of Spyro's bleeding head, and of the discombobulated citizens fallen to the ground, as sensory-deprived as she, repeated constantly, egging her to move, to get up and **do something**—anything—

Light.

She finally saw light.

Sweet, heavenly, miraculous light.

Praise the Ancestors, Joshua's power was beginning to wear off at last. Living in a lifeless world of silence and darkness, adrift and forever confused, unable to make heads or paws of everything… the thought of suffering even another minute in that rebarbative place spooked Cynder no less than her occasional nightmares, where she'd been cursed again into the Terror of the Skies, possessed, no longer in control, and obsessed with vengeance.

Yet when the colors separated—when the light died down, allowed her to truly **see**, her breath hitched at the sight of Joshua Renalia kneeling next to Spyro the Dragon, his hands all over his head.

"Spuh, Spyro," Cynder mewled. The words flowed out weakly, her throat hoarse. She struggled to move, to regain her bearings, to come to her mate's defense. What was that furless ape doing to him? What's with the impassive face? Was he proudly examining his work? Or was he looking for more signs of life? Was he going to help him? Or did Joshua lie to her? Fooled her into believing he deserved a second shot?

Sparx was there, fluttering around the human unevenly. Devastation had been embedded on his face, and he clutched his own head, murmuring to himself. He must have tried to stop Joshua. She gnashed her teeth. He could fix this, he said. He wanted to help Spyro, he said. Give him a chance, he _begged_. The fact she **felt regret** at his dirty lies appalled her. Cynder promised herself to kill the furless ape as soon as she could. Destroy him before that white cloak manifested and—

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Sparx's scream, the first sound she heard, drew her attention immediately. "Spirits, what are you _doing_?"

Green eyes dilated, seeing the glowing light in Joshua's hands. "**I DON'T KNOW!**" yelled the human. "It just turned on by itself!"

"I wanted you to help Spyro!"

"But that's what I wanted, too!"

"Then why are you **killing** him?"

"The hell I am! If I wanted him dead, I would've taken Kilat and run for the hills, you stupid _dolt_. I would've left him to die right here but"—he ceased his rant; focused on the Purple Dragon.—"Oh shit. Sparx. Sparx, wait—Damn it! Sparx, I've got good—

"AHHHH!"

"GUH!"

Her hearing hadn't recovered enough to hear their continued argument, though Cynder was bewildered enough by Sparx's sudden change in his demeanor, switching quickly from hostility to astonishment. Joshua's mouth flapped some more, and the dragoness's confusion reached its apex the moment Sparx looked like he dodged an arrow by a talon's length and all but **withered** onto Spyro's head, releasing a deep breath. Even Joshua Renalia leaned on her mate, his panic receding while he took solace from the one-winged child in his arms, hugging her. A sign he cared for the little girl. Loved her for real, unlike the accusations thrown at him by the suspicious guards.

What happened?

Why were Sparx and Joshua talking like, li-like friends now?

She watched him prod the adolescent's chest with a finger, heard the reproachful cadence in his voice, and saw a smile form on Joshua's lips. The dragonfly even locked eyes with her a second earlier, the expression on his face one of immense relief.

What did Joshua do? What did he do to Spyro? A faint wave of emotionrose in her chest. The blood of her beloved mate still wafted into her nose, but now it didn't come with the stench of a dying life. Where once she isolated the subtle smell of an unconscious dragon's distress, Cynder now discovered the more pleasant odor of rest, tranquility.

Did he? Did, Did Joshua really—no, he couldn't have. His magic—his _power_ only harmed. It blinded. It deafened. It numbed. It disoriented.

It paralyzed.

And it **killed**.

Joshua couldn't have accomplished this. He couldn't have saved Spyro.

So why? Why was Sparx more cordial with him now? Why did her mate seem so much better now than he did a second ago?

And why **now**? Why, after Joshua left more than ten bodies in the wake of his terrible, terrible ability?

The former Terror of the Skies, the Heroine of the Dragon Realms forced herself to stand. Her legs quivered—her muscles _quaked _and screeched at her to lie down and let them rest. But she needed to get there. Spyro had to be okay now, yet she still had to see for herself, to **feel** for herself. It was the only way to satiate the worries still lingering in her heart—

Then **it** happened.

Infernus chose this time to ambush Joshua Renalia, notwithstanding his injuries. He had planned the assault, and the timing provided enough evidence he waited until the human was no longer in a state of panic, relaxed—comforted by the security of having Sparx's apparent support. Cynder's ire bubbled in her. How dare he? He waited until the action—the maelstromdied down before making this move?

What if someone with a grudge exploited _his_ inaction and killed **her**, the Purple Dragon's mate?

What if Joshua had finished off Spyro instead?

What if Sparx took more guards with him? What if more good people—good _soldiers _died because the Guardian Candidate withheld his "help" until the very last second?

All these questions and **more** popped into her head, even as she continued to watch—ogle the way Infernus' horns sunk into Joshua's stomach and ripped into it, releasing a gush of red, human blood. The Fire Dragon went so far as to pin him in place and bite down on his shoulder, hauling him to a circle of armored Apprentices. She remembered many of them aspiring to be Elemental Guardians someday, to help the people of Warfang, to defend it against the City of Apes, and to aid the Saviors' multiple expeditions beyond the known borders of their world.

Of the eight she recognized, half had shown respect to Cynder. Shown _acceptance_, socializing with her no more than they did with her mate, unlike the many who still saw her as a monster. As Malefor's demon.

The Savior choked at the thick cloud that erupted in the middle of the group. Her eyes stung, breaking her own neck to process both its massive density and the eerie, inert silence that instantly followed. Uncontrollably, tears and sad whining gushed from Cynder when the brume cleared.

When she saw all nine bodies on the ground.

When Joshua stood alone, his body stainless, no longer spotted with gaping wounds. His shirt hang from his body, ripped in many places. No better than the rags donned by the homeless and destitute.

In one split second, **nine dragons** had been killed. None of them even put up a fight. They were gone. Snuffed out. Utterly and completely dead. And Infernus, the Guardian Candidate, was among the fallen. Cynder shuddered. Among all Warfang Dragons, his unwelcoming personality was as eminent as his great, brutish strength. The vermillion beast was tougher than Ignitus, and if someone could have survived the Ring of Fire alone, it would have been him.

Cynder personally knew all these dragons, and four of them had struck some level of friendship with her, in spite of her dark past. Seeing them truly and conclusively dead pulled a sense of loss out of the dragoness. She would never see Skyfire's ascension to Senior Apprentice, never enjoy her company in her expeditions, and never see her weep the day she found her lost family. The halls of the Warfang Temple would never be the same without Permias charming—flirting with Blizzara. Even Sandstone's pestering would be missed, all his incessant questions about Cynder's species, the "Lost Element" of Wind, and his yearning to understand the history of the Dragon Realms—to accompany the two Saviors outside Warfang with their explorations. Thundorus would never egg her and Spyro to go out patrolling with him and his partner in the city, do his part to get Cynder accepted by the multitude of immigrants moving into the City of Dragons.

But the boiling hate that often accompanied such bereavement never came. Her heart—her soul roiled from a turbid discord, even as she watched Rimeer take command and demand Joshua's immediate execution.

Because none of this would have happened if Infernus didn't attack the human.

Because Joshua Renalia no longer wanted to fight.

Unfortunately, the reality was Joshua still needed to defend himself. Yet everyone else saw red. A cheetah, enraged by the loss, drew an arrow on his bow and let it loose. The white aegis that apparently blocked all of the known Elements reappeared; Cynder saw how the guard's bolt went straight through and pierced the furless ape in the upper arm.

"So that's his weakness," she mumbled to herself. An alert—a watchful Joshua Renalia in full control of his power could never be hurt by an elemental attack, since the human could, in theory, deflect it away, block it, or use it against the Dragons. Even rocks generated by an Earth Dragon were no exception. But long-range projectiles? Like arrows? Or a catapult's stones?

Cynder wasn't the only one who noticed.

Rimeer growled, staring at the remaining dragons in the group of soldiers. "All dragons!" he commanded, voice replete with strength. Many of the addressed were adolescents—all ranked Senior Associates or lower, according to the current system—for all the young adults, all of the Apprentice-level dragons fell with Infernus. "Take wing and flank the furless ape. Under all circumstances, **do not approach** **him**!" The Ice Dragon raised a paw, ogling the other races. "The rest of you, draw your bows and shoot him up!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Joshua begged, clasping his hands together, as if in prayer. "**I'M SORRY!** I know I killed all these people, and I'm _f*cking sorry_! But this isn't completely my fault! I can't control my Element! It does whatever it wants; I can't rein it in. I can't even hold back if I wanted to. This"—the human gestured to all the dead around him, all the dead scattered before the Gates of Warfang—"Mother of God, I wanted to avoid **all of this**."

"Then you should have walked away," countered the Ice Dragon. "Or you should have surrendered when—

"**NO!** Spyro and the Guardians are my only hope! That's why I didn't want to fight; I only wanted to talk. You were even going to let me through!" He glared angrily at Infernus's corpse beside him. "But this **piss-poor** excuse for a Guardian **SLANDERED** me, and you, y-you, y-y-y-you had to f*cking **listen** to him!" He snapped off a piece of the arrow sticking out of his arm. He tossed it away. Subsequently, without warning he vitiated the cadaver and _spat on it_. "Well I'm glad this _f*cker's_ stone dead now. Good riddance."

Rimeer snarled. "How dare you! He was the Tenth Candidate for the Fire Guard—

"He's an **INSULT** to Ignitus! A jerk like that? I bet he _bullied_ everyone to get to the top. Spyro would **never **allow it!"

Cynder recognized the deference Joshua held for the deceased Guardian, and was stunned the human even knew of his wisdom. Spyro always told her he was the sagest of the Guardians, and he loathed Infernus's brand of leadership as much as she detested his relentless, insensitive jabs at her past. The Savior had no idea what to make of this situation, of this development. Joshua had a point. After the little girl lashed out at her and the entire crowd panicked into chaos, she remembered Infernus had Spyro all to himself. Clearly the Guardian Candidate turned the Purple Dragon of Legend against him, even dissolving all her credibility right in front of him.

But Joshua was still the one who hurt Spyro, the one who killed her friends, the one who snuffed the lives of these people… the one who also helped him. Cynder nearly flopped to the grass again at the discord running through her. Was Joshua an enemy? Was he a friend? Or was he a disaster waiting to happen?

"Infernus was still my friend," Rimeer gnarled. "All those dragons you killed, they're _my_ friends. **My** brothers from the Temple! You even finished off the Purple Dragon!"

"What!" Joshua blanched at the accusation and corrected him. "**No**, you idiot! I was trying to stabilize him and by some miracle I _managed_ it. He's still alive! So if you guys can just stop all this f*cking crap, work together, _and f*cking leave me alone_, you can **really** help Spyro. And maybe, just maybe, he'll be flying around doing his 'Savior' stuff first thing tomorrow morn—

"Enough stalling!" A booming rumble cut him off. "All of you. **PUT HIM DOWN!**"

"**Oh, F*CK ME**!" Joshua Renalia broke into a sprint. A mad dash towards Kilat and Spyro. "I'm getting the _hell_ out of here!"

The remaining dragon guards spread their wings and shot into the air. They circled the field, maintained distance as mandated by Rimeer, and bombarded the fleeing human with an array of elemental attacks fit for their current level of experience. Joshua dodged and sidestepped without looking at the glowing spheres of light raining down, relying completely on his unheard-of ability to sense the attacks.

Cynder watched him raise his hand, palm open, facing a particular orb coming his way. She recognized the movement, associated it with the very same used to deftly manipulate her globs of Poison away. But instead of a successful redirection, _nothing_ _happened_. Joshua grimaced. "Damn it, **not now**!" He twisted, narrowly avoiding a rock aimed for his neck.

His second attempt failed. "F*cking **work**, goddammi—crap!" He leaped over a Polar Bomb targeting his legs, but he ran straight into an arrow, which struck his thigh and _stayed there_. "ARGH!" Joshua Renalia stumbled, and terror filled his eyes. Flashed across his face. The white shield appeared behind him, as if evoked by raw survival instinct, but it reeled under the large number of Elements coming its way.

Joshua paled at the way it oscillated with every sphere it absorbed. Panicked, he turned, raised his hand, and viridian eyes wholly focusing on the pallid aegis, clenched his fist—no, _flexed_ his fingers. Buttressed by his concentrated efforts, the bulwark absorbing every Element steadied, though only a little. Cynder realized it was weaker. So much weaker than before. She remembered how firm the last time the White Shield appeared. Unwavering. Unyielding despite everything being thrown at it.

With his attention occupied, an opportunistic dragon circled around the furless ape and opened fire from above. A frustrated grunt flew from his lips; Joshua raised his other hand in a third attempt to turn the elemental attack away. He succeeded, but **barely**, for he jolted—flinched when the projectile almost struck his hips. "Jesus-Mary-Joseph!"

Cynder heard arrows being drawn and nocked. Rather than observing Joshua's reaction from her splayed position on the grass, she wrenched her emerald eyes away from the scene and gazed at Spyro's unconscious form. _Wake up_, she willed the body. _Please, wake up_. Someone needed to stop this. Someone had to step in! She'd stop the maelstrom if she could; Ancestors, why was Joshua's power so **effective**? Minutes had long passed and **until now** the world still pulsed—still seesawed if she ever so much as endeavored to stand, a feat rendered impossible at any rate by the mere fact her paws shivered madly, too weak—too feeble to hold her own weight.

The former Terror of the Skies feared.

She feared her beloved would once again be in life-threatening danger.

She feared the stress—the _anxiety _accumulating quickly on Joshua's shoulders would activate his power at its worst once again.

She feared the tragedy wouldn't end at a body count of 16 if this farce kept going. Her insides churned. Either Joshua had to be subdued or the guards had to stop.

The Purple Dragon of Legend did not wake up, despite the prayers Cynder sent to the Ancestors watching all of them. She hoped for something—for _anything_ to help her resolve this—

Something shattered.

Then Joshua Renalia screamed.

Cynder turned immediately at the voice. Her gaze found a gilded arrow penetrating him—shooting _straight through_ his body. She saw the mechanical broadhead tip swing its five blades out as it struck the human and instantly Cynder recognized the unusual design. It was one of the latest innovations from the moles, developed _specifically_ for use against the large, unarmored Apes like those who often held the Commander position…

As well as the new, _compact _variant that began popping up after the War, multiples more intelligent, more _hostile_—more **brutal** to dragonkind than any of the others. The kind of Ape Lord Caesar was. The kind of Ape this "human" resembled.

Heavier, fitted with sharper blades, and certainly more expensive to manufacture than the common arrow used in wartime, that it speared right through Joshua did not surprise Cynder. It entered his stomach and exited right through the side, taking the bottom of his torn, ragged shirt with it. His arms flailed; he stumbled. He crashed into the ground, contorting during his descent.

Joshua's barrier simultaneously broke, and as its toothed pieces scattered, dispersed into the air, a large fireball made its way towards the human. It missed only because of his fall. Yet it struck the ground in front of him, unleashing a small explosion that hurtled him into the air and pushed him towards Cynder—_away _from Spyro, away from _Kilat_.

Neither of them locked eyes. Joshua's gaze had spaced out, seemingly tracking everything moving around him. But Cynder saw the fear on his face. She bore witness to his desperation. Watched his mouth move, uttering a single word as he tried to turn around, to reach the little girl far behind him.

One of the archers saw this. He cheered, "Look, the Ape is cowering in its own blood!"

"The barrier's down!" pronounced one of the Associate dragons. Triumphant roars followed his holler. "Keep attacking! Don't stop until the monkey's **dead**!"

Spyro's mate saw differently. The Savior grasped the true situation, comprehending why Joshua Renalia took her and Spyro down easily. Why his power lashed out the way it did. Why it responded so easily to his desires yet, at the same time, refused to bow down to his feeble control. It explained his claims. It explained his apparent immunity to the Fear breath. It explained why he became the struggling human again after he and Sparx spoke.

Ancestors, they **weren't** winning! They weren't on the cusp of victory. They were nowhere near it! In reality, the guards were _teetering_ on the edge of death. None of them realized that if they pushed Joshua some more and sent a few more lethal attacks his way, it would end in another unprecedented catastrophe. He didn't need Spirit Gems to recover his wounds when he could instead _literally _drain the life out of them. Did the guards forget what he did to one of their own? Did they forget the spots of dead grass scattered in front of the Eastern Gate?

"S-stop," Cynder croaked. Her voice was weak. But her determination to save these people—save the very people Spyro fought for—compelled her to raise her voice. "Everyone, stop!" She swallowed the saliva pooling in her jaws. Cynder tried again, and verbalized louder. "Don't attack him! He—

_Whack!_ A cerulean paw slammed into her snout; the black dragoness coasted across the grass.

"Defending Lord Caesar's furless ape, are you?" leered a familiar voice.

Rimeer.

Of course it was him.

The resentful lizard wouldn't dare relinquish an opportunity to kill a dragoness he hated but couldn't outmatch, not while she was barely capable of defending herself. "Go fly in a volcano. He, he isn't working for Lord Caesar. Joshua's—

"It doesn't matter. We can't let him live. His ability's too dangerous."

"No. It's _misunderstood_. They're agitating him. " In reply, the Ice Dragon pawed closer, glaring down at the famed Heroine of the Dragon Realms. Cynder crawled back, refusing to submit. "If this doesn't stop, they'll end up like…"

Like her.

Like Spyro.

Like Infernus.

Rimeer, however, easily traversed the gap between them in a few paces. "Like—URK!" He pounded her back, stomping his foot down so hard it cut off Cynder, disabled her crawling, and now the adolescent dragoness could do nothing but stare up at the adult above her.

"We will kill that hoo-man before it happens," he said. The derision in his tone eclipsed what reassurance that sentence should have had. "Really, _Cynder_, you should worry more about yourself." Her name was spat out, articulated with unrestrained revulsion. "Because you'll be **dead** long before then."

She growled. "Y-you, you despicable _worm_! The Guardians **acquitted **me four years ago! Or did you forget, how I fought beside Spyro? How we took down the Dark Master together?"

"I don't care if you're one of our Saviors," the Ice Dragon answered back. "I don't care what those old coots think. I joined the Temple only so I can get close to you, so I can _have the influence I need_. The families you destroyed still demand **justice** for all the tragedies you caused on Malefor's behalf."

Joshua's pathetic whimpers floated in her ear, imploring the guards to stop. "Just let me go," she heard his whining. "Please, let me go. I'll leave you alone. Just stop, I'm begging you…"

They had to stop, **NOW**! Ancestors damn this. If she didn't feel so lightheaded, if her senses weren't in disarray, Cynder could have done something by now. Letting her own rage guide her, the Savior stared up at the dragon on top of her. "Spyro will—

"The Purple Dragon is not here to save you, _demon_." A wad of spit flew out of his snout, landing on Cynder's. "When that silly insect brings the Guardians here, I will blame **everything** on the hoo-man. Our two Heroes, Infernus, and all the 15 guards lying dead here. The furless ape killed them all, but I took charge and _successfully_ defeated him and put his head on a spike. Cyril will make me his first Ice Guardian Candidate."

"But the other guards will see you. They—

"Will take my side," Rimeer spoke. "To me, to many in Warfang, and to all the dragons immigrating into **my** city, you will always be the Terror of the Skies. The people will **always** look at you as Malefor's pet monster."

His confidence unnerved her. "You're wrong! I've already atoned for what I've done, and I'm _still _making up for it, aren't I? I've even made a few friends with some of the—UGH!"

Rimeer forced his paw down. "The minority don't make up the people any more than the Guardians don't speak for any of them." He dug his claws deeper, their sharp ends beginning to pierce his prisoner's smooth, black scales. "Nothing you do will truly atone for what you did in the war, Cynder." Azure light seeped through the cracks in his throat. "Nothing, but **death**."

Another scream thundered the air. "AHHHH!" It was Joshua, yelling for dear life.

The adult dragon ceased his execution. He postponed it, body turning rigid while he made sense of the yelling coming from the Associates and the archers entrusted with the responsibility of saving Warfang from the furless ape.

"Spirits, he's regenerating!"

"How? I don't see Spirit Gems!"

"He's **absorbing** our Elements! For the love of the Ancestors, stop attacking. Dragons, stop and let the archers—

"We can't give up now! Attack harder. Shoot _faster_!"

A white glow illuminated the field. Cynder's body cast a long, dark shadow.

"What is **that**?"

"No more," Joshua muttered under his breath. "Oh god, no more. No more. No more, no more. Please, no more. Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."

Cynder trained her viridian eyes in the human's direction and gasped in horror as she processed the large, glowing sphere of light floating above him. _Ancestors, I was afraid this would_ _happen_. The massive globe rippled ominously.

A courageous Atlawa stepped forth and took aim at Joshua, gripping three arrows nocked into the bow, loaded and ready to fire. He released the projectiles—

A split second.

It took only a **split second **for the white matter to react.

Pale lances of light sprouted out of the great ball. Numerous, Cynder couldn't track them all, though what little she saw perturbed her enough. In a heartbeat, the spears of light shot out at every archer, at every dragon flying in the sky. It exploded into little bolts of white lightning on contact. The victims died at once, their bodies ballooning—rotting black in an instant. Their gaping snouts exemplified the extreme torment they suffered in that one moment, eyes bulging out from a horror the Savior didn't dare describe.

Every shooter on the ground was dead, while the majority of the dragons escaped unscathed, jerking out of the way at the last second. But those that didn't… they lost something instead. They lost a part of their wings, a limb, or two limbs. Though all somehow managed to remain airborne. And all ogled the human kneeling in front of them.

Seemingly defenseless, and once again, **spotless**.

"Monster!"

"He's a monster!"

"AN APE DEMON!"

"Ancestors! Fly for your lives!"

"Run, run, run, ruuuuuun!"

"Ayiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

Rimeer stared up at them, unable to comprehend what just happened. "C-come back!" he stuttered, the urgency in his inflection displaying his losing grip and the desperation to regain control. "You shameful cowards, get back here! I'll report your _spinelessness_ to the Guardians and the Warfang Council!" A handful of the Senior Associates stayed behind, as did a few of the other guards, all concerned with the threat Rimeer held over their necks. "Your career and your life in this city will—**WHAT THE**?"

With Rimeer distracted by this momentary diversion, Cynder made her move. She had to go dark. It was the only way to escape the adult's weight. The dragoness focused on the feeling of safety—the floating sensation of nothingness that came whenever she drew on the Shadow Element. She brought out the ferocious warmth it evoked, wrapped herself in it as it danced around her scales, tendrils flicking in the air with the tranquility of a calm, night sky.

Of a good dream.

Cynder sunk deep into the bosom of this empressement, surrounding her entire body within it. Now and truly cloaked beneath her shadows, the Savior swam through it. She guided her senses through the fog of black smoke surely spreading away from Rimeer, making her way to its very borders. For every stroke, for every movement, she went in the direction she saw the human last.

Knock him out or, better yet, pacify him. That's what she'd do, Cynder decided. Promise she wouldn't let the others kill him for merely defending himself against the speciesists and the vengeful. Although Joshua never gave the dragoness a reason to trust him—and until now she was still unsure of his intentions for the Guardians or for that matter, the City of Dragons—as long as his life wasn't under imminent duress then they could all sort this situation out peacefully. At worst, the young man would be exiled forever from Warfang and thankfully, judging by her short interaction with him, he didn't seem the type to rebel or act out of spite.

At this point Cynder's good fortune ran out.

Nausea afflicted the dragoness for no reason, ramifying quickly into the loss of the warmth that had carried her throughout this escape attempt. Spyro's beloved mate blinked, the dancing shadows fading away from the world as she felt the soft grass tickling her maroon belly. The headache magnified during her subsequent bid to enshroud herself. Forced to abort her efforts, Cynder made to stand…

And she collapsed after a couple steps, legs still quaking. It was now that the dragoness noticed Joshua was still a blur, and the ambient smells were not as intense and vibrant as they usually were. _Ancestors_, she grumbled. _I'm still in recovery. _Joshua's White Breath had obviously done far more than enfeeble her. It did not simply afflict her with temporary blindness, deafness, anosmia, and vertigo; it also undermined her mastery over her elements simultaneously.

The person responsible for her condition hyperventilated before her, his body listless and enervated. He directed his gaze into the sky, but Cynder felt he was in no position to accurately track their movements. Her affinity for the Fear Element allowed her to sense the human's lingering terror, still bubbling within even if her eyes and ears were still a little compromised.

Twin emerald orbs looked up. The few dragons remaining behind out of respect—or perhaps out of _fear_ for Rimeer's authority and influence hovered above them, soaring silently as they waited for a command. Cynder put it upon herself to take initiative. "Get out of here," she shouted, authority infusing her command. "Find the Guardians. Bring them here! But they **mustn't **do anything to the furless ape until they speak with me first."

An icicle clouted Cynder, splintering into pieces the second it smashed into the back of her head. The blow disconcerted the dragoness—intensified her nausea. Her vision went double—went _triple, _and the world moved in circles.

"You're not getting away, _Terror of the Skies_." Rimeer brought his paw down and thumped her. Cynder did not have the luxury of groaning when the Ice Dragon shoved her onto her back, forced her to look straight into his rancorous glare. Standing on top of her shoulders, the Heroine of the Dragon Realms could no longer move. He even rendered her tail immobile. "A lot of people want you **dead**. I promise you, Warfang will start breathing easy knowing you're gone. And if the ugly truth ever gets out?"

Rimeer glanced at Kilat, unconscious but on the brink of awakening. He laughed. "That brainwashed child will be happy when she learns I exacted vengeance on her behalf." He glowered down at Cynder, who saw all the ire—all the odium she never noticed in all the times she spoke with this Senior Fellow at the Temple surfacing from their hidden depths. "The Purple Dragon of Legend will hate me for a while, but even he **will** eventually accept me as a hero, once he comes to terms with the fact you've always been on the side of darkness and he never noticed because he was all caught up in your _cloaca_." He gazed up at the Senior Associates, chuckling. "Isn't that right, boys?"

Cynder turned away. Away from the manipulative Rimeer, from his apathetic lackeys, and from the terrified human. She ogled the red and green crystals sprouting out of the ground close to her, just out of her paws' reach. A few tears dripped out of her eyes. The people of Warfang could never let go of the past, it seemed to her, even if she devoted the rest of her life to helping others, even if she had shed her guilt for everything she'd done, once upon a time.

Rimeer moved his paw from her shoulder to her face. "Any last words?" He asked. The question was no more disdainful than it was sardonic.

The dragoness focused on the Spirit Gems. "No," came her response. "I **don't**." That she would never get to say goodbye to Spyro saddened her immensely, but Cynder refused to give the Ancestors-damned conspirator the satisfaction of hearing her regrets, of even seeing her tears. She was far too strong and prideful to let the Ice Dragon bask in her weaknesses.

Without supplying a reply back, Rimeer shunted down as hard as he could, putting all his weight, all his strength into crushing her skull. In moments, the Savior's bones fractured, and agony erupted from all the nerves on her head when her snout began to cave in, began to **bleed**.

Cynder screeched.

The world began to darken, just as she heard someone cry her name…

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**Author's notes:**

My apologies for the delay. The 16th chapter had been ready for writing for at least three of the past four weeks already, but I got busy with a lot of things so I had little time for it. I climbed up the highest mountain in Texas last Saturday, and I even got to go to the largest chamber cave in the United States the day after that. Fun times, fun times. Also had to go through major life decisions as well. Long story short, I'm moving back to the Philippines in December this year for both personal and career-oriented reasons, and I'll be a very, **very** busy man. Probably won't have as much time to spend on writing fanfiction (I already have no time at all for video games, sadly), but I'll try to make up some time.

At any rate, my efforts in revising the master outline for this story arc is a **success**. The "Gates of Warfang" arc has now been **shortened** by a full two chapters, so the denouement—and conclusion—of this arc will be happening in the 18th chapter. So once that comes to an end, I can start relax, take it easy, and focus less on combat-oriented and more on character-driven chapters. If any of you have ever read TokoWH's _The Infinite Loops_, you can expect my story to start taking that route and truly embrace its eponymous theme of aimlessness. :)

Just as a reference though, with regards to the rankings briefly mentioned in Cynder's POV (e.g. "Associate", "Apprentice", Senior Fellow"), these refer to their skill levels in the Warfang Temple, and was formally instituted at some point after the war. There is actually a progression, though I'll have to figure out at some point how advancement is done since the advancement process is a sort of plot point for some of the various storylines that will be explored in _Aimless_.

Once again, if you got feedback, criticisms, or comments, please don't hesitate to leave a review.

Finally, I'd also like to credit **GoldenGriffiness **for the small amount of help she provided in this chapter. She gave me the names of the dead, nameless OCs Cynder was remembering **and** **also** directed me to both the the 1st chapter of _Safe and Sound_ and the 56th chapter of _The Legend of Cynder: Night Terrors_ for inspiration on describing Cynder's sensory deprivation in this chapter as well as her use of the Shadow Element, close to the end.

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Now to address some of the new reviews I've gotten. Again, for the guests who are leaving feedback on the story, I highly recommend signing in or creating an FFN account. Doing so will at least enable me to converse with you and you won't have to wait for the next update for any responses.

To Lonewolf: It goes without saying that Joshua's Element is capable of plenty, since I've demonstrated a versatile arsenal of defensive, supportive, utility, and offensive applications over the last 16 chapters.

All the natural properties of the Unknown Element, its capabilities, its weaknesses/limitations, and its requirements for mastery are all already fleshed out, meaning I'm not pulling out all these feats Joshua's been doing from my ass. From my perspective as the writer, the "Gates of Warfang" story arc has a dual purpose: it aims to both establish the context of Joshua's settlement and the unique capabilities of his only power. With that said, after Joshua starts living in Warfang, you can expect several scenes (if not outright chapters) devoted to his struggle to figure out what he's capable of without hurting anyone.

I'll have to admit, the passive abilities are incredible by themselves. As established in the first story arc, Joshua can sense the "presence" of another living being in any direction so long as it's within a certain range, which can be extended to Element usage, specific identification, and vague sensing of emotions, provided he practices. He can also locate Spirit Gems at farther distances and possesses a survivalist's foraging instincts.

Had he been a seasoned veteran warrior instead of a sheltered geek who lived a mundane, sedentary life on Earth, he wouldn't have needed to master any of the active abilities of the Unknown Element. Hell, if he had to use it, he'd probably have had much better control over it – maybe enough to actually spare Kilat from life as a cripple and save both Lani and Explodon, way back in Chapter 5.

But where's the fun in that? _Aimless_ strives to be on another level than most fics in this genre, and I happen to enjoy breaking common tropes. :D

To Guest1: It'll get better for him soon. Well, relatively speaking.

To Guest3: M-rated why? Joshua has a dirty mouth but from the fandom I come from, that's not really a strong enough reason to warrant an M. I'm not exactly showing blood, guts, gore, or even societally subversive themes here. *shrugs*

To Guest6: A few problems with that suggestion. First, Cynder and Sparx are aware he knows things that were kept secret from the people of Warfang and from the Guardians themselves. Hiding it under the rug by "a story" is not going to work. Second, there are no benefits whatsoever in telling them he is from "another world", while the risks with revealing that are quite high, since it may have negative repercussions for him. Remember that the Dragon Realms is not his Neverland to fulfill his fantasies.

To the other Guests clamoring for updates: Sorry, but I update on my own schedule. I love reading reviews and everything, but to maintain the high quality of writing, I write only when I'm feeling the inspiration. Just having the outline 100% prepared and ready to go isn't enough. This story is proof in itself. I started _Aimless_ because I lacked the inspiration to write a 20,000-word update for my main fic. XD

To maga: Oh, that's real easy. In his illusion, Joshua was pulled into Malefor's castle floating above the Burned Lands, except the "Burned Lands" turned out to be a part of Earth, not the Dragon Realms. He saw his parents dead, an adult and possessed Cynder, and every other person (Cheetahs, Atlawas, and Moles) he saw as an Ape, a Troll, or an Orc. Dragons he saw as Wyverns or Dreadwings. He only realized he was hallucinating after seeing Spyro and Sparx together.


	17. Resolve

**Author's note:**

Originally, I wanted to post everything I am writing now as Chapter 17—as a matter of fact, I'm about ¾ done with what I have in my outline. I really, **really **want to end this story arc on the 18th chapter. But... this chapter just got sooooo long! It is currently about 14K in length (WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING WHENEVER I WRITE!? OTL) and I'm not even _done_ writing out the new material, not to mention that I'm still redoing a huge chunk of what's already been written after receiving some feedback from **badasslizard**'s beta reading. (Ugh... =_=)

Since, I don't want a repeat of _The Interloper_ and put up 10K to 15K monsters I normally produce for that story, I am putting up the first few thousand words of the next chapter. :D Granted, my alternative is to simply hold off and keep on writing 'til the whole thing's done, then post it all in one Brobdingagian update, but from experience, I believe I'll turn off less people if I just, well, splice this crap, even though lengthy beasts wouldn't be a common feature for _Aimless_. :3

Hope you like the chapter!

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**Chapter 17: Resolve**

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"_Look in your disappointments for the resolve to transform your experiences into solutions."_

\- Bryant McGill

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Joshua Renalia dug through the video games he's played over the years.

He remembered cautiously navigating Sebastian Castellanos through the Victoriano Manor, trying to conserve ammunition. With a controller, he shot down rifle-toting goons in the Lost Kingdom of Yamatai, armed with nothing but a bow, several arrows, and lightning-fast reflexes honed by countless deaths. There was also that time he sluggishly moved through a dying Space Station, jury-rigging a plasma cutter in his hand to mow down hordes of undead.

Oh yes, there he was, in his happy place. He retreated further into himself, driven further inward by the deep desire to forget whatever happened out **there**, in the harsh cruelty of real life. Joshua fondly recalled the warmth of thick comforters wrapped around him, while he directed a Norse Valkyrie through a sorcerer's tower. Seeing Daniel Radcliffe bring Harry Potter to life reminded him of that character. Even stirred the thought of Lord Voldemort shitting himself if that madman had replaced the Potter Boy completely.

And then there was his favorite game of all. A platformer game with a smug, cocky, purple dragon, solving problems wherever he went and making friends around his world. Slight grief swelled in the gamer when he recalled how corporate meddling forced its developer to ditch the franchise he loved so much. It certainly did not stop the men in suits from resurrecting the franchise from its grave, producing a reboot for the PlayStation 2.

Unlike several fans at the time, Joshua did not reject the new series and accepted the change. He often looked back at his experiences—his memories playing this game with just as much fondness as the classic trilogy. With a controller in hand, he followed a nervous young dragon courageously searching for his past, only to stumble into a most epic destiny. A cute, innocent child who believed in the good of all things and either looked at you with a smile or, at worst, a confused expression—

A vicious muzzle.

A pair of hateful eyes.

"_I won't let you hurt anyone else. You're not getting near that child again. She's free now."_

The raw, unparalleled power surging beneath those gold and purple scales.

"_And I'm making sure it __**stays that way**__."_

The dragon's maw loomed above him. It lumbered down, wide open, as though ready to swallow him alive. Each tooth looked prepared to brutally murder him as they had mauled his own fingers.

Joshua Renalia recoiled, gasping at the vivid nightmare. But instead of his room—instead of the warm, comforting hum of his air-conditioner, instead of his TV polluting the air with that annoying high-pitched sound, clear, blue skies reflected back in his green eyes and the sturdy build of a wooden rail supported his back.

The Dragon Realms.

But it was not the fantasized place he played pretend in as a child, acting out entire scenes as Keyblader Matt. Believed himself a comrade of the famous hero, fighting monsters upon monsters with a sword shaped like a key and elements of his own.

Nor was it Alec's idyllic utopia, which told of a good life, accepted by the people, respected by the Guardians, and with dear, beloved friends among the Saviors and their kin.

No.

He found himself in the **real** Dragon Realms.

Where its people hate him.

Where the sole power he owns terrified him.

**WHERE HIS OWN HEROES TRIED TO KILL HIM**!

He whimpered, crumpling down further on his knees. Joshua gazed lazily at the sky. He held his viridian eyes up, and ogled the enraged dragons circling the air. Abhorrence and fury alike swirled in their hateful eyes. They glowered down at him—

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_Spyro's purple eyes wished death on the young man as they stared back into his, crowned in an aura of flames, his presence announced by the boom of Dragon Time. _

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—and did nothing despite it. Not one of their signatures had the characteristic spike that preceded each and every offensive maneuver. Still, their spheres of life shook violently. Trembling. Like bombs ready to explode. He couldn't look any of the dragons in the eye, and he didn't dare bring his gaze down, lest he risked glimpsing even one of the **many** bodies lying around dead, much more processing the fact **he** and **he alone** had massacred them all. It was bad enough his Element let him know their life signatures have all fallen still. Black, gaping voids of oblivion, each conjuring a discomfort impossible to vocalize, let alone delineate.

But he had no choice!

Why couldn't any one of those idiots understand **he had no f*cking choice in this**?

Who in their right mind accepted death with open arms? Joshua Renalia wanted to live. **TO LIVE!** That's all he ever wanted. Even more so after Cynder blasted his _face_ with her Fear breath. The crimson Element brought the faces of Jefferson and Erika Renalia out before his eyes. Thoughts of his younger brother and sister, of his friends, of his significant other_ and the entire life he left behind _rushed out.

He didn't want to die there in the Dragon Realms.

He **couldn't** die there.

Because he had to get back home.

Because he wanted to see them again.

Because the people he grew up with—the people he **loved** would spend several years—several _decades_ believing he vanished, presumed killed by some conspiracy that left them without a body to mourn over and bury. They would never have closure; the thought of all his loved ones in lifelong disarray while he lived out his childish fantasies in an entirely different world would slowly, subtly kill him over the years.

Joshua Renalia barely remembered what happened while he was under the initial influence of _Phantom Fright_. Surviving had become his sole focus. Everything he said—everything he chose—everything he **did **was a deliberate gambit to preserve his own life, one after another. Joshua did not question why his Element responded to his every whim. Forgetting everything but the drive to live on, he used his power. No, **he** **abused it** like the tool it really was. If he wanted something gone, it vanished. If he wanted to stop, it stopped. If he needed to heal, then it healed. He could care less what his Element did if he got away from this, free to live another day and find his way back home, away from this madness.

It in fact took what miniscule willpower he had left—and **all of it**—to stop the White Breath from killing Spyro's beloved mate when she went at him.

Yet despite everything he's done, none of them stopped.

Even after he stabilized Spyro himself, literally seconds before he would've passed on, they still attacked. Jesus Christ, they wouldn't f*cking stop! A ferocious anger colored his eyes. Rimeer's stubbornness clouded his focus, and those goddamn archers—goddammit, do **not** get him started on those bloody—

A shrill scream shook Joshua Renalia out of his private thoughts. His frustrations momentarily forgotten, he whipped his head towards the source.

Cynder.

Rimeer on top of Cynder.

Rimeer's _foot_ crushing Cynder's _face_.

No, no, no, no, no, **NO**!

"CYNDER!" Joshua yelled. Why was God punishing him this much? First he OHKO'd Spyro, then he almost killed Cynder. After that he _actually _killed scores of civilians and city soldiers. Now some sick, opportunistic bastard was executing some silly Xanatos Gambit to murder the Heroine?

The same son-of-a-bitch who couldn't relinquish his grudges? Mother of f*cking God, if Rimeer succeeded, he could easily pin the blame on _him_! "Get, g-get away," the teenager said. Knees quivered as he rose to his feet. He charged the Ice Dragon, only for fatigue to attack him. His legs cramped, and he staggered—he _stumbled _his way to Rimeer. "Shit!" Joshua gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the black dragoness. The screeching loudened. Cynder's life pulse convulsed violently, like crystal on the brink of shattering.

No time for healing or mana crystals. If he had to help, he had to do it _now. _He raised his hand as he approached, palm outstretched and facing the Manipulative Bastard. Sweat rained down his forehead. "Leave her alone!" he shouted. He expanded his consciousness, feeling his senses embrace and become one with the surroundings. Joshua sought the two pulses of life in front of him. Focused on the one on top, the only one that didn't wane and fluctuate. The one that quivered madly from anticipation, from _satisfaction_.

A ferocious ire stoked, Joshua wished strongly for the dense clouds to come and consume the Ice Dragon. He couldn't rely on any of his senses. That much he knew; for intent powered his Element and immense concentration channeled it. Anger at the dragon that exploited her weakness and complete shame at putting Cynder in such a vulnerable position swirled within.

Joshua Renalia willed the White Nebula to shoot out of his palm and engulf the motherf—

Nothing came out.

And Cynder cried. Her voice became a deafening trill, whining in his ears along with an equally disturbing tinnitus. The Savior's life pulse flickered from strong to weak and back.

"F*CK!" Joshua cursed. Why? Why **now**? Why **again**? "You f*cking piece of shit Element! Don't do this to me. Work, damn it. Work! **GOD F*CKING DAMMIT**, WHY WON'T YOU—

_CRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAACK._

The slender dragoness flailed underneath the adult's paw. "Thaaaat's it," Rimeer nodded, probably sporting a wide grin on his muzzle. "Scream for me, Terror of the Skies. This is **justice** for **everyone** you killed. Now scream. Writhe in agony!"

And she wailed, shrieking like Joshua had never heard before. Cynder whined, Cynder squealed, and none of the dragons observing them bothered to help one of the Dragon Realms' two heroes. All of them were either p*ssies or colluding with this damn city guard. It was torturous to hear—

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_All of Joshua's efforts to reproduce his Element received in reward the agony of a little girl. A yellow dragoness, squirming on the grass with a grotesque stump for a left wing. _

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—and it pained Joshua to hear her and do nothing. He only had a few seconds before her skull gave way, and despite all the things he could do with his Element, replacing lost limbs and resurrecting the dead were completely beyond his ability.

But if he couldn't rely on his only power, if he couldn't use the ashen clouds to stop the bastard from murdering a heroine in cold blood, then there was absolutely nothing he could do but watch the vengeful dragon execute an innocent. Because if he did something—if he did _anything_, he might just die—

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_Joshua Renalia left Explodon, Lani, and Kilat all to their fate. Abandoned all three of them to the mercy of the Apes. Not once did he tell Kilat how he felt about her. How his heart ached every time he so much as looked at her grinning up at him, happy to be alive. _

_He didn't deserve the child's love. His eyes always fell on her only wing whenever they slept, a constant reminder of his failure. Even if Kilat never held it against him, even if he believed he should be happy, knowing he enabled her the life her friends sacrificed themselves for, a tiny part of him was still far too eager to take responsibility for everything, to blame himself. To slip in the subtle, insidious thought: What if he'd been able to save Lani, too, if Joshua only had the balls— _

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The human was disgusted with himself. Did he seriously just consider fleeing? And leave Cynder to **this**? Simply because he couldn't get his Element to work, like last time? What sort of gratitude was it, to repay with desertion the only person who offered him ears rather than teeth and claws? If one of **his **idols died because of something _he_ caused, Joshua would never be able to live with himself.

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_But Joshua was no hero. He was just like Explodon: an adolescent in over his head. Even with his unique Element, it was clear as day that the human did not belong in—_

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"I don't care." He wasn't running again. "I don't care," he uttered to himself and steeled his quaking hands. The shaking refused to stop, yet Joshua reached for a fallen mole's sword. _He wouldn't need that anymore_, the adolescent noted grimly. One hand picked it up and immediately the other supported it. The weapon was heavier than it seemed. It proved to be a tremendous weight his biceps almost failed to bear.

_Never again._

Yet the gamer drew strength from his self-loathing—from his very shame—and kept the blade above the ground. He dashed towards Rimeer and ignored the intensifying cramps as much as he overcame the fear for his own life. He didn't care if he held the blade in a wrong grip or if the enemy heard him coming. He didn't care if his own stupidity killed him in the end. He didn't even give two shits about the fact he couldn't bring out the power reliably on his own.

Because Joshua Renalia would rather thrust the sword in his own throat than let someone else suffer **again **from his own incompetence, not when he still could've done something. _NEVER F*CKING __**AGAIN**__!_

Targeting the city guard's rump, the adolescent pushed himself harder. Forced himself to move faster.

Left.

Right.

Left. Right.

Left-right-left-right-left-right.

He counted down, one step at a time, both hands clenching the mole's weapon tightly, like a bastard sword.

Two of the life signatures circling them above made their move. One of them—one of the dragons swooped down from the sky. Joshua's sixth sense prickled from whatever Element sheathed the claws and the bladed tips of the wings. Rimeer's accomplice roared defiantly, aspiring to take down the human and dismember him in one move.

Joshua Renalia twisted moments before the attack landed. The momentum of his charge and the sheer weight of the sword forced him to gyrate heavily, much more than he intended… and inadvertently swing the sword at the dragon. Human ears heard the blade penetrate the skin, slicing cleanly through juvenile dragon scales. He heard it release a guttural cry and a pair of viridian eyes glimpsed the bleeding wound, running along its left flank—

A feminine screech pushed his focus on an Earth dragoness freefalling towards him, her wings taut around her body. Her muzzle was agape, the green hue of her Element bright and distracting. Joshua Renalia grimaced. His attention flickered to Rimeer's and Cynder's spheres. He couldn't fall now. No. Not now. He had to—he **needed** to save the Heroine from this unjust, unfair execution.

The teenager stopped and moved the sword upward in an attempt to cut the dragoness open the second she passed right above him. A gamer's mind insisted he made the right decision. Dante Sparda manipulated his sword like a master swordsman, dancing in the battlefield and easily, _easily _attacking one side and the other in split-seconds. Bruce Wayne and Ezio Auditore could literally counter and takedown any and all their enemies, even if the attacks came from behind.

Yet the fact Joshua possessed a gamer's mind bore no difference at all when he had a gamer's body as well.

He was unconditioned.

He was out of shape.

And he lacked stamina as much as he lacked strength.

Years of a sedentary lifestyle had cursed the human with this body. Several days of trekking in the fringes of the Apes' territory and the treacherous Dry Canyon did nothing for him except improve his endurance and the amount of time he could spend carrying a dragon-child with the weight of a Labrador.

Joshua looked absolutely pathetic, struggling to raise a weapon he could barely carry in both hands at once. The dragoness might have successfully killed him on the spot, if she didn't choose to abort her assault after watching Joshua stop and whip out the weapon. If her eyes failed to zoom in on the faint, white hue enveloping the sharpened edge.

The inexperienced human, ignorant and unperceptive, neglected this little detail and chose this opportunity not to assess what happened, not to even glance at his scavenged sword, but to persist—to continue his ignoble attack from behind.

"Stop it." Joshua was upon the Ice Dragon. "Cynder doesn't deserve this!" Propelled by the lingering momentum, the young man raised the weapon—raised the blade until it pointed skyward. "I said **stop it!**" Joshua Renalia bellowed—vented all his doubts, all his confidence and desire in a battle cry he would've never expected from his own mouth split seconds before he arced the weapon down, letting gravity assist his work.

Every desire to spare Cynder from suffering a humiliating and painful death plunged down with the weapon. Joshua's ardent outrage at Rimeer and the bitterness of his past failure and self-loathing accompanied his intent to slice the adult dragon open with a single, felling strike.

Joshua Renalia put a hundred and ten percent of his effort—his focus—his heartfelt emotions into bringing down this abominable travesty of a guard. He envisioned Rimeer's fall. He imagined the blood spurting out of his flank, even the guts that would undoubtedly fall out of the wound.

And despite all these, Joshua Renalia still **missed**.

"F*ck…"

All of Joshua's hopes, all of his vigor, all of his anticipation at seeing the extemporized strategy he came up with on the spot bear fruit died the second his would-be victim jerked out of the way at the last possible second.

"…my…"

The adolescent's mind took a long time—a _very_ long time to process the fact his eleventh-hour assault just struck air, swinging far from Rimeer's cerulean scales.

"…life."

He was **still** registering this great misfortune when the adult batted the sword out of Joshua's hands. The city guard ripped the weapon away violently; its coarse hilt scraped the skin right off his fingers. Stings of pain flared from the raw, bleeding flesh of both purlicues, yet God had given Joshua only a couple seconds to realize how much he **failed **until the Ice Dragon's tail—a thick, corpulent, and undeniably **strong **tail—rammed Joshua's side.

Ribs fractured, splintered from the attack. Joshua blinked away the tears and squealed, suppressing every urge to cry out in agony. He hissed instead, and hollered one volley of curses after another in his head. Goddammit all! Even after all he's been through, he **still** couldn't do things right! Christ, was his best not enough? Was he truly **this** inept, so hopeless he couldn't save his own heroes?

God, just why was he here? Why—

"You shan't deny my revenge, _monkey_!" Rimeer thundered. The adult brought one of his paws to Joshua's chest, pounding it once—subjecting it to the force of multiple sledgehammers before pinning the human in place. More of his ribs cracked, and the boy convulsed from a sharp pain near his heart. Blood spluttered out his mouth in a cough. It stopped for a split-second, ramifying into a paralyzing nausea. Completely enfeebled, Joshua almost didn't hear Rimeer utter, "And I won't take chances with you **again**."

As he recovered, Joshua stared at Rimeer in horror. Emerald eyes dilated at the sight of his massive maw engulfing his right arm, from the upper arm down. The human felt sick at the disgusting sliminess of Rimeer's saliva. It was worse than Kilat's brand of "bathing", for sure! With a grimace, Joshua began to pull it out—

Only for the adult dragon to suck it right back in. Rimeer shut his mouth right on top of the limb and—**Oh God**.

Joshua let out a perturbed gasp, feeling the city guard's jagged teeth poking the bare skin. "F*CK!" He tugged. "I-I, I'm not lo—I'm not losing a goddamn limb!" He heaved, strained to yank his right arm—his _main_ arm out of the firm muzzle. Mother of God, he was right-handed! If he lost it to this opportunistic asshole, he would be so damn **f*cked **for the rest of his life in this twisted screw-up of a video game world.

"Goddammit!" he growled. Joshua flexed his spine—rotated his hips and jerked. Shit, that did _nothing_! He tried again. "God, f*cking, dammit!" And again.

And agai—

Teeth broke skin, and **gnashed** upon their descent. Muscles were ripped apart. Nerves, torn right through.

Joshua Renalia moaned. A long, painful cry, appended by distraught sobbing. Blood gushed out of the wounded arteries. The human felt Rimeer's fangs touch his bone, touch the three major nerves running along it. Neuroelectricity hammered him into a whirling pandemonium of agony, completely destroying his ability to think. Yet, in his hysteria, he realized the Ice Dragon was moments away from crunching down, from truly severing his right arm.

"ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" Joshua shrieked as loudly as Cynder screamed moments earlier and, moving from sheer reflex alone, punched Rimeer's rugged snout. His left fist bounced right off the rough scales, and the teenager flinched. His skin was too soft, too _fragile_ to even endure one solid blow to the muzzle. Had Joshua directed his blow to a concrete slab topped with broken glass, the effect wouldn't have been any different.

Joshua's Element failed to react, even to his distress—even to his frenzied instincts aimed at wrenching his arm free at all costs as soon as possible. He panicked more in reaction; he squirmed harder when he saw the blood—**his **blood—flood the dragon's maw and stain the grass beneath it. Jesus-Mary-Joseph! Why wasn't his power working? Where were those white clouds? Where were the beams of death? Weren't they supposed to come to his aid, like what happened with Infernus? Wasn't this a _Deus Ex Machina_ set to activate every time someone jeopardized his li—

.

.

.

A stark understanding struck him, its timing merciless.

The imminent loss of his life was a far cry from the imminent loss of a limb. Adrenaline and terror kept Joshua grounded on the present. Focused on the things happening right in front of him, rather than the outcome he desired above all.

Joshua Renalia could never tap the only gift God graced him with in this forsaken trip to the Dragon Realms.

Not like this.

Yet he refused to give up. He refused to yield his arm to the bastard chewing down on it. With his right arm fully pinned between Rimeer's jaws, he clenched his other hand into a hammer fist and socked the Ice Dragon's large nose multiple times in rapid succession. Tears cascaded his eyes as the skin split open and compounded the stress he struggled to endure.

A snarl interrupted him. The city guard grated his teeth across the gamer's sensitive nerves. Joshua gasped as the world blurred and lightning shot up his arm. His shoulders. His entire body. Then with a loud, bellowing grunt, Rimeer twisted his heavy, muscular neck and—

The single pulse of life beneath Rimeer exploded.

Scarlet light illuminated the cerulean dragon from below. Then Cynder **yelled**.

A concussive blast lifted Rimeer up. The air beneath him moved with the force of a hurricane, toppling the adult, upending the adult dragon before he could dismember the teenage gamer. Joshua heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the cool breeze lapping at his moist arm.

The Savior's life signature still gyrated at a snail's pace, sluggish. No less close to death than Cynder had been under the Manipulative Bastard's paw. Even so, it quaked. It shuddered intensely. It told Joshua of all the Elements at her disposal, and Cynder deployed all of them with all her wrath and indignation.

A foot away from his reach, a crystal winked at him. The Dragon Realms' sun brought out its crimson sparkles, which contrasted the faded gray of what was once the green Spirit Gem next to it. Realizing his opportunity, Joshua Renalia lunged. He wrapped his hands around the blessing of the Ancestors and snapped the brittle thing off its base. Its healing energies coursed throughout his body, repairing what it could.

And because he had abused this wonderful boon to the Dragons far too many times in this short but chaotic encounter with Warfang's people, it didn't do much. Fractured ribs moved on their own accord, reconnecting and slightly mending the damage. Blood ceased flowing out his arm, yet the punctures remained. The primary nerves running across his arm fired painful, agonizing bolts of electricity as the Spirit Gem did its work.

Joshua's world floundered. His consciousness fluttered in and out, but nonetheless he managed to witness the black, slender dragoness somersault in the air. Gusts of wind surged around the Savior's body, propelling her, supporting her. With his own viridian eyes, Joshua watched Cynder gracefully run the blade of her tail clean across the asshole's throat, slicing right past the blue, hardened scales.

Rimeer the Ice Dragon collapsed. His forepaws clutched helplessly at his neck, desperate to staunch the steady gush of scarlet blood. His sphere of life, which once swirled and trembled from auburn rage, azure contentment, and gilt purpose, quickly dulled into an unmoving, insensate gray.

Joshua put his hands on the ground and pushed, gradually rising to his feet. Standing upright hurt. His chest ached. His right arm shook. The hand Spyro himself crushed earlier still twitched from phantom pain. Joshua's body jittered. A Spirit Gem, or even his apparent ability to drain life, would never be a proper substitute for delicious meals and well-deserved R&amp;R.

A soft whump on the ground drew his gaze to the black dragoness, hunched over Rimeer's blood-drenched corpse. Cynder's sphere of life spun sluggishly, her physical form wilted and drooping. Ichor dripped from her broken face and Joshua found her deformed muzzle ghastly. Too _fugly_ to even gawk at. Unaware of his gaze, she forced herself to her feet. She swayed, but in spite of her wobbling Spyro's mate still projected a powerful and resilient presence.

She had to.

Because Rimeer's untimely death agitated the handful of dragons circling the skies. Having experienced speciesism firsthand, not to mention the reactions of surpassing each and every expectation lumped on his person, Joshua Renalia did not need to focus on their pulses of life to recognize astonishment and the subsequent rage or dread that followed it.

"She, s-s-she killed Rimeer!"

"Damn her! Damn the Terror of the Skies!"

"Let's kill her!"

"Yeah!"

"Great Ancestors, fasten your wings! What if she's—

"Don't you understand? She's **weak**. Get her while we still have the chance!"

A few dragons plummeted from the sky, their own spheres betraying their intention to exact vengeance at a most enticing opportunity. Cynder tensed. Her paws tightened, wings going rigid. Joshua's augmented hearing even brought her frail but vicious growls to his ears.

The teenager didn't want this insanity to go on any longer. Kilat was probably hurt and barely awake. Spyro needed medical help, and a great many had already died. It didn't help that so many disliked—**detested **Cynder enough to actually _disregard_ the Purple Dragon's needs.

How could hate, no, how could the desire for revenge be so damn strong?

He had to stop them.

He had to stop them **now**.

He also had to dissuade them from going on the offense. Neutralize any method of attack they mustered, and from any direction.

Like a coat.

A 360° shroud of protection.

Joshua Renalia vaguely remembered managing something like that under the influence of Cynder's Fear Breath. As he sprinted towards the black dragoness, he envisioned the ashen clouds materializing around them both. He concentrated on the image of an impenetrable shawl, impossible to break through or disperse, absorbing any elemental assault and harming every enemy who dared to brave the twizzling haze.

Cynder's trepidation grabbed hold of Joshua the moment he expanded his consciousness and draped it over Spyro's beloved. His legs shuddered, reeling from her intolerable weakness. She was on the verge of falling over, and it took substantial mental grit to remind himself that he did not inhabit her body. That **he **still stood. That **he** could still run. That every bone on **his** face were still whole, unbroken, and _definitely_ not throbbing in pain.

"Enough!" he shouted at them. Joshua poured all of his concentration on stopping this, on deterring the vengeful dragons from following through on God knew what. After everything that's happened today, he concluded his power partly operated on intent.

On willful, deliberate thought.

Joshua ground to a halt between Cynder and the three dragons, arms spread as wide as humanly possible. "Enough, damn it! For the love of God, **no more fighting**!" And for once, the young man's conscious and measured decision entified the White Cloak around him and the dragoness. An amazing feat, given how little he knew of his own Element. It would take weeks of effort and frustration before Joshua could pull off something like this on his own again.

Cynder froze, finding herself in the midst of the dense haze that instantly turned anything alive into rotting cadavers. Joshua sensed her life signature contract from anxiety and dread, but he paid her no attention, instead directing his outrage at the three above them. All have stopped at the sudden materialization of Joshua's Element.

He did not know if they could see him and the Savior underneath this misty shroud, or if Cynder could see anything beyond its borders, but for Joshua, sight and hearing were irrelevant. He only needed his voice. "You're all a bunch of f*cking assholes! Did you forget Cynder worked with the Purple Dragon to f*cking **save your asses**?

"I don't care if she killed thousands, if she orphaned hundreds, or if she f*cking messed up the entire world! Those goddamned Apes raised her, forced her to work for Malefor. Cynder had completely _no control over her damn life_ for twelve years. Twelve years, you ungrateful dragon shits. **TWELVE, F*CKING, YEARS!** Jesus-Mary-Joseph, she deserves a good life as much as she deserves to be _with _Spyro."

Tears came out of his eyes. Joshua wiped his face, despite knowing nobody could see them behind the White Cloak. "And this!" He gestured at the entire scene outside the city's eastern gates. "You all think **this** is my fault? That, t-that I actually _wanted_ to see these people dead? I, I have next to **no** control over my own power! I didn't even know I could do all that!" He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry they died, okay? Jesus f*cking Christ, I'm really—I'm _truly _sorry they all died, but you f*cking did this to yourselves. Hell, you all attacked me **FIRST**!"

Emerald eyes stared upwards, in the general direction of the life signatures flying—hovering above them. The gamer couldn't figure out if they heard him or not. But he didn't care. He didn't give a damn. He only wanted to vent. "Just let it end," he begged them. "Drop this. Let it end, **please**."

Time stretched for God knew how long. Joshua Renalia felt like he had been sucked into a horrible Inaction Sequence, waiting for that one pivotal moment. Every second ticked alongside the drumming of his heart, and the apprehension gripping him strengthened in each beat. The White Cloak churned slowly around them, and Joshua exerted as much control—as much willpower as he could, keeping it from dispersing into the air and leaving them both vulnerable to the others' retaliation.

Cynder, on the other hand, did nothing. She neither spoke nor gasped, for she was whipping her head back and forth instead. Teal eyes darted around and across this sallow realm, her sphere of life staunch and steadfast. But Joshua sensed the ripples garbling her pulse's smooth surface, the confusion she tried to hide through the illusion of strength.

The adolescent shoved his awareness—his ego boundaries past the White Cloak. He reached for the last few dragons above them, studied their spheres of life. All had gone blue from uncertainty, stunned by the sudden appearance of Joshua's power. They all shrunk and contracted, perhaps truly discouraged from pursuing the attack and dooming themselves to the very end that took Infernape and scores of guards and some civilians into whatever passed for afterlife in the Dragon Realms.

Then, after several, painstakingly long minutes, they left.

Every single pulse of life beyond the protection of the White Cloak abandoned the battlefield, leaving behind bodies of comrades and beloved civilians alike.

They did not even bother picking up Kilat or Spyro, taking only with them stories of a furless ape, a fearsome power that sent the Purple Dragon of Legend and his mate to a state of near-death, and the massacre he orchestrated just outside Warfang's Eastern Gate.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

All right! That shaved off a good 5.5K from my current draft. Wonderful!

We are now approaching the end of the story arc. Once I put up the next two chapters, this stupid story arc should be _finally_ over. It probably doesn't feel like I've dragged it for a long time because of the varying perspectives and the clear progression of events, but to me, it does, and I am **tired**. I want to start writing more about Warfang, its people, its politics, and Joshua's life there, and much less of his power or this drawn-out battle.

Ahhh, just little more, TSI. You're almost there…

Okay! Some replies to my readers. I can't respond to everyone because I don't want this to be too long, but I'd like to thank you all for your reviews, comments, and support. Criticism and encouragement are both highly and equally welcome, and I hope to live up to your expectations or even inspire you to write. I look forward to any feedback you can give me for my work this chapter. Thanks again! It's because of you all that I'm starting to shower _Aimless _with some love. :D

Soooo here goes:

Djax80, you got your wish. Cynder is now deformed… for the time being.

Kingveemon, Well, Chris is much different from Joshua. Christopher Van Numen has perfect knowledge _and _mastery over his powers, keeps said powers close to his chest and reveals very little at a time, has ulterior motives in many of the things he does, and is sociopathic enough to do what he needs to do. A perfect spice to add to a long and complex epic. Joshua? Meh. He's just an immature, naive kid who's in over his head. Chris wouldn't be impressed with him. He'd have far less patience for Joshua than he did with Veemon.

Eris Clio, thank you! I hope you did continue reading the story after your review. I would like to know what you think of the direction _Aimless_ took after the 5th chapter. Yeah, I understand that putting my own characters in a fanfic is a great risk. That's what happened with my main story, honestly. Of course, the major differences between this and _The Interloper_ are that _Aimless_ is shorter, is less complex, exploits the fact the "human fics" are unusually common in this fandom, and will later on spread its focus on the world that's slowly being built here. Thankfully, that worked. :)

Draykat, thanks for that and also, thank you for the comment on my writing. Immersion is always something I strive for, whether the chapters are long or short. (Though it means I can't really write pure comedy LOL)

Lastly, Mikey Kudo. Sorry, dude, but as I replied to you in my PM, I cannot accept any of those OCs. They are way too omnipotent / god-tier to make a good story with, not with what I have on the table. Their names don't exactly jive with the Legendverse, either. Not to mention many of them have Elements that won't exist in _Aimless_ canon, let alone actual canon. **However**, I can accept some of your OCs for **worldbuilding**. For Dragonkind's Mythology. After all, with all the "Ancestors" crap the Dragons tote around, it makes you wonder who among the Ancestors are most prominent, what they have accomplished, and whether they are worthy of being _named _by dragons who are aware of their cultural / religious heritage (such as the Guardians, specifically Cyril. Why wouldn't he? He has the perfect opportunity to color young immigrants' minds with lies, embellishments, and half-truths lol). We can privately discuss some of the particulars at a later time if you're interested.


	18. The Unknown Element

**Author's Notes:**

Hey, readers! Sorry for the delay.

Long story short, but real life got in the way. Over the past three months since my last update, personal affairs compelled me to make a huge, long-term relocation back to my homeland in Southeast Asia. _Economic_ circumstances and aspirations tie me down here, so I don't expect to be returning to the United States, not for years. Unfortunately the IRS doesn't let go of American citizens _that _easily – I'll still have to pay taxes to the US. =_=;

Anyway, to make up for the months of absence, I'm presenting CH18 with a length rivalling that commonly found in my main fic's chapters. It's extra long, extra detailed. I look forward to your feedback. Seeing you guys entertained inspires me to keep on going even more. :3

BTW, this chapter features more dialogue and action involving the TLOS canon cast, so please be as critical as you can if you have glaring problems with character portrayal. Remember! Spyro isn't my home fandom! I will try to fix any issues that may arise.

Now without further delay, enjoy! Y'all have waited long enough. :)

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Unknown Element**

"_He had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom."_

\- P.G. Wodehouse

* * *

As soon as the hostile spheres departed beyond his sixth sense's maximum range, Joshua let out a deep breath and relaxed, and the beating of his heart slowed to a steady, peaceful tempo. A tightness he never knew he had unraveled; the fog surrounding him dispersed into the air with it. With the City of Dragons imposing its wall upon his eyes, it looked as though the White Cloak had never appeared in the first place.

Provided one did not glance at the huge spot of dead grass where Joshua and Cynder now stood.

The boy bent forward, exhausted. Hands on knees. "They decided to leave," he said. He'd been worried back there. Joshua doubted the Cloak could've endured a sustained assault for more than a minute. That he did not trust his own skills was telling, if he had any at all. "Thank God." He groaned. "That was a close one."

He wasn't the only one flushed with relief.

"Ughhhh…"

Joshua snapped his head in time to see Cynder's wobbly stance finally give way to the overwhelming fatigue. She teetered to her left. Her eyes had shut and a pained breath dug its way out of her deformed jaw. The human tried not to look at how Rimeer had crushed it, making it cave in on itself. Her teeth was mangled, and splintered bone—some of it—stuck out, into the air and into her mouth. Blood seeped out of gaping wounds in her maw and on what should've been flawless, black skin.

Joshua Renalia turned his gaze away as he rushed in. A sudden move like that would have gotten him killed had Cynder been alert and wary of her own life, but with her reflexes dulled, her senses still caught in the rapture of sweet relief, and her body still recovering from the lingering effects of the White Breath, the dragoness did not register the human's presence until he stood right next to her, one hand on her chest and the other on her left flank.

Cynder stiffened at his touch. "Don't worry," Joshua told her, making sure his favorite character stayed up on her feet. "I won't hurt you, Cynder," he reassured her. "Just lean on me."

And lean on him she did. Joshua bit his tongue, swallowing the curses quickly forming behind his lips. He never realized how damn **heavy** she was until she did exactly as he asked. Stupid. He could've easily figured _that _out; the dragoness stood taller than him, already as large as a fully-grown horse back on Earth. But out of courtesy, out of that muted desire to make _some_ kind of progress with someone _familiar_ in this goddamn world, he didn't say anything.

In fact, he **couldn't** say anything. Joshua was too busy trying **not** to fall over and be literally smothered to death by the greatest fictional heroine of his life.

Scratch that. The Dragon Realms was not "fiction" anymore.

The underdeveloped muscles on his neck burned beneath Cynder's weight. He exhaled, and exhaled with it the burgeoning desire to let the dragoness fall. But it was never gone for long.

"A-alayb," the word spluttered out her broken mouth. "Suh, sta-ahl…" After Rimeer deformed her muzzle in his attempt to kill her—and horribly so—the warm and charming voice Cynder had when she first spoke with Joshua lost its light, alluring inflection. "Alayb." She coughed out the word, the sound mimicking the rickety old BMW his grandfather drove around the city whenever he felt like it. It didn't matter if it was the kind of city where it took nearly five hours to travel a mere five miles.

Joshua caught the confusion settling in her sphere of life, sensing not just the incredulity of her voice but the way her life pulse jittered and switched between fast and slow rotations. He thought of leading up with a composed and confident explanation, but what came out of his mouth made it all the more awkward. "Glad you're alive too."

Spyro's beloved mate recoiled at his voice and, startled, whipped her head in his direction. Did she just forget he was there in the first place? Keeping her steady? Making sure she didn't fall over like a disgraced and defeated loser? Was… was this still a result of whatever he did to her? Or did this come from Rimeer's aborted scheme?

Residual distrust lingered in the gleam of her eyes. Not once did the black dragoness step away from him, but this close, he felt her muscles tense. Quick to discern the daunting threat, Joshua couldn't help speaking immediately. "H-hey! I _really _wanted to help you. " Jesus Christ, the way Cynder eyeballed him, it did not feel like she was observing him so much as she scrutinized his very soul, scouring him for ulterior motives, wicked schemes, and any of their insidious ilk. "I never wanted you dead! I put everything I had into making sure I didn't kill you by accident!

"I mean it, Cynder!" the fanboy insisted. A subconscious reaction brought out of him a quote straight out of _Classic _Spyro's playbook. "You gotta be**lieve**!"

Ha! Believe him, he requested.

Funny how that turned out, huh? Despite his own words, _everything else_ that was with them underneath the White Cloak and all its opacity had died. The grass, the bugs, the little shrubs growing out… every single one of those died and left a circle of death large enough for observant dragons and guards stationed on the walls to notice from above.

Joshua Renalia savored the irony. He was morbidly amused by it—a small part of him even found the whole thing hilarious to some degree, if only so he did not focus his entire attention on the bloodstains scattered around the grass, the large number of corpses surrounding them, or the fact Spyro the Dragon tried to kill him.

Regardless of the distractions Cynder and this entire situation provided, contrition still gnawed at him, clawing into his heart with unrelenting hunger. The guilt condemned his spirit to an agony not even the Ancestors' blessings to dragonkind could heal. All the deaths, all the people hurt and frightened by this one event… all those fell on his shoulders, didn't they? If he had just gone to the secret tunnel to Warfang from the West or if he decided to spend a few more days with Kilat in the forests and seriously learn to control his only power first instead of being a retarded gamer fanboy looking for a way home, then all this crap might not have happened in the first place.

Cynder ogled him for a long time. Tens of seconds, and he could not make a reliable inference from it, and his heartbeat loudened in his ears.

Was she going to give him the benefit of the doubt? Would she truly believe him and his desire to make things right? Notwithstanding everything that happened since their first foray into a fecund dialogue? No longer could he interpret the way her lips moved and curled around her mouth, not when her elegant snout became the hideous piece of crap it was now.

FUBAR.

Joshua found it difficult to describe how thankful he was to the Almighty Father the moment Cynder's head turned away. He forgot his own private trip into the world of guilt and compunction, drawn to the way his accidental companion—for the time being at least—frenetically moved her head left and right. She paid no heed to what he spoke.

Standing still together, as one, Joshua and Cynder wobbled. They bounced into each other as the latter twisted her neck back and forth. Joshua perluscrated her, his viridian orbs sinking deeply into a pair of solid pools no more or less verdant than his own. Yet she did not return his gaze; she kept her eyes trained outward, running her line of sight along the massive wall. Always straining to see something. To find something.

Correction.

It was some**one**.

Joshua remembered where Kilat and the Purple Dragon of Legend were. Slumped within paces of each other somewhat near the Eastern Gate, both had distinct pulses of life of their own and, more importantly, both were still alive. Mother of God, he didn't even know **how** he managed to stabilize his great hero. He could sense their exact positions so long as he didn't stray any more than 500 meters away. A good thing the clusterfuck that happened afterwards failed to send him any farther than that, right?

"Spuh, S-Spah-wo." Cynder found Spyro a split second faster than Joshua realized the Savior's true intentions. Without warning and in complete ignorance of her abysmal physical condition, she moved towards her mate. Cynder brought a forepaw forward and took her first step without the human boy's support and slowly, gradually, made her way to—

A groan.

Cynder's head whirled around and a dull glaze sheathed her eyes for a split second. Joshua watched her stumble on a pebble, literally one step in front of him. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, **hey**!" He scrambled at once. He dug in and shoved his shoulder into hers before she collapsed in a heap face-first. He spent every ounce of his strength—all the strength appropriate for a gamer of his caliber—keeping her up. "You aren't doing too well yourself, you know."

Damn it. She needed to heal up. Red Gems, maybe? He didn't know how they would affect fractured bones and deformed snouts, but surely _that_ would be a dramatic improvement over—

Gray.

The red crystals Joshua used to recover from Rimeer's effort at severing his right arm had turned gray long ago. They looked like the slightest breeze would topple the growth and turn the entire thing into dust. So much for that idea. That bastard had truly done quite the number on Cynder's muzzle. She didn't even look as good as she did in _Dawn of the Dragon_.

Cynder brought her head up, still looking in Spyro's direction. Joshua saw the longing, the worry shimmering in them. "Spahwo!" An incomprehensible whine went out of her mouth. She stated his name the best she could, and as loud as she could possibly make it without putting her mouth and its fractured bones through agony. Joshua thought she sounded like a mewling kitten, crying out for its mother. Hearing it was like a stab to the chest, and compassion compelled the teenager to act on it.

"C'mon," he said. "I'll take you to him." He reached down and snaked his arm around Cynder's foreleg. Her legs, though slender, were well-developed, the scales far smoother than he expected. It did not bite into his skin as he moved to give the dragoness a slight tug. He tugged harder when her life signature contracted—jolted as though it stumbled over a tight knot. Instinct alone provided the diagnosis. "No need to hurry, okay? I know he, I, I know he looks like _crap_, but believe me, he's **fine**."

Cynder looked down at the (slightly) shorter human standing next to her, bearing the brunt of her weight. The dragoness's expression was uncertain, and her teal eyes were just as inscrutable. Joshua Renalia wished she could speak comprehensibly, if only so it made this awkward conversation more tolerable.

Joshua Renalia was the only one keeping this dialogue alive—if it could even be considered _a_ dialogue in the first place. He was the only one who took the initiative. Didn't he rush to Cynder's side as soon as she collapsed? Didn't his muscles suffer from bearing it all? Didn't he even offer to take her to Spyro, without any strings attached?

He couldn't maintain eye contact with his favorite Heroine. Every time she gazed at him, Joshua felt as if she was sizing him up, that she was once more on the brink of seizing a great opportunity to snap his neck faster than he could react. The fact she, too, invested great effort, power, and personal risk at an attempt to kill him bothered Joshua by such an immense magnitude even a _Spyro _fanboy like him found it almost impossible to trust her.

Goddamn it! How were they going to talk now? Sure, there was virtually **nobody** to interrupt them.

Yes, he volunteered to be her support. Yes, he volunteered to give her an extra leg. A genuine care for his idols—his living gods—had driven the human gamer to do this, but that never meant he would forget, and easily so, how Cynder disregarded his requests for pacification, too bent on vengeance to even consider giving him a chance to fix the Purple Dragon of Legend and make things right.

Joshua Renalia set his eyes on Spyro and Kilat. _Fifteen to twenty steps_, he estimated. By no means was it an accurate number, but the number was high enough to tack an irritated grimace on his face. Fifteen to twenty paces felt distant—very distant—with Cynder **putting **nearly 60% of her body weight on him. Her black scales dug into his shoulder, and at this distance, her natural, smoky scent almost overpowered his enhanced senses and threw Joshua into disarray. It stirred up memories of large passenger buses spluttering thick clouds of noxious fumes and smoke on the main thoroughfares of his home, polluting the air—stinking up the city, while police officers directed to comply with an eco-friendly mandate turned a blind eye and persecuted, instead, the common man who sought an honest living.

Cynder muttered, "Jo, sa."

It was his name. Joshua almost failed to catch it. The Heroine refrained from talking loudly and saying anything that could move her deformed, unhealed snout—only mewling and unintelligible noises resulted from speaking that way. And to add insult to injury, the disfigurations obstructed her ability to talk evenly—to talk _coherently_.

Did something bother her? Jesus f*cking Christ! What was wrong now? Didn't Cynder realize he was on the cusp of leading her to Spyro? That if she didn't waste both of their times, then in about ten or so minutes, she would find herself right beside her mate?

He glared, annoyed. By all rights, Cynder should be somewhat more conscious of all the things he was doing for her right now. "Cynder, look. Can it wait? I can only hold you up for so long but I really, **really** want to bring you to Spyro so you can stop worrying about him."

She held her tongue and replied with a subtle nod Joshua might have missed if he literally hadn't been standing right next to Cynder, enduring her weight. Gratitude supplied the dragoness's life signature with a bright and wonderful glow, and the thought of doing something good—of impacting Cynder in this positive way buoyed Joshua Renalia far more than if he received his favorite character's appreciation verbally.

But buoyed or not, every step they took together was a careful one. Joshua, being the frail human he was, teetered on his feet. Spyro's beloved barely kept pace with him. Nonetheless, where the young adolescent lacked in strength, he more than compensated for it with resolve. A dogged resolve. "One more step," he encouraged her.

The Savior gnashed her teeth. Her body wobbled, and she pushed most of her weight on the weak gamer. Cynder's throat let out an exasperated rumble. It was _strong_! Her neck vibrated powerfully, and Joshua Renalia's automatic reflexes led him to shiver uncontrollably. It amazed him to feel the grunt juddering **his** neck. No wonder he felt small—he was stricken dumb from terror every time a dragon so much as growled at his face. None of the cheetahs or the moles could hold water to that. Never.

What used to be flaccid biceps on Earth had somewhat hardened after a few days in the Dragon Realms. After rescuing Kilat, adopting the little girl (in all but name), and watching over her like the surrogate big brother he was slowly becoming, even Joshua felt assisting Cynder was slightly more tolerable than it might have been otherwise.

Spyro rested about seven paces away from them. Kilat, give or take another three. "And another," Joshua continued. Arms coiled around her left foreleg, he called on all the strength his average but skinny build could provide, even when he himself wobbled from the heaviness bearing down on his right shoulder. "Come on. You can do it! Just a few more. Just a few, **more** and I'll get you there."

Sure enough, the massive purple lump in the distance, with yellow specks glittering in the sunlight, became more defined as they sauntered—no, staggered to the revered Hero of the Dragon Realms, one step at a time. Slowly they approached her dearest mate, their bodies quivering. But aside from Joshua's grunts and stifled curses, and Cynder's querulous bleating, the two undertook this arduous venture wordlessly.

The endeavor alone ensorcelled the gamer. It trapped his mind in a vise of its own machinations, and Joshua Renalia felt the moments stretching past the breaking points he anticipated. A light breeze caressed Joshua's only ear, and the sunlight shining down on him and his idol delivered a gentle, relaxing warmth Joshua might have enjoyed in another world. But if Mother Nature had been trying to tempt him—all this time—away from the one thing haunting his mind, she had clearly failed.

Disquiet blasted Joshua's mind from all sides. He felt restless. In fact, he was incapable of concentrating on this little side mission he set for himself. _Goddammit, Joshua!_ What was he doing? Why wasn't he _talking_ to her? This was his big break—the one chance to talk to one of **his** childhood heroes, one on one. Nobody else on Earth would be this blessed to have the opportunity to talk to a favored character. A person who was nothing more than fiction, back home.

He yearned to talk to Cynder, to answer some of the unanswered questions undoubtedly filling her sharp, astute mind. He wanted to discuss his situation, to see what he could do for Kilat and his journey home. And most of all Joshua wanted to know…

God, he was so embarrassed to admit it. Thinking about it made him feel ten years younger. Like a child again.

…he wanted to know if he could still be friends with her and Spyro, if they could _overlook _all that's happened today.

But what could he say now? And where would the young man even begin? Gaucherie even impregnated their short, quick interactions with each other. Cynder still stiffened every time they teetered and bounced off of each other. She always gave this infinitesimal resistance in reaction to all the times Joshua tightened his hold over her foreleg and pulled, lessening the burden she had to deal with.

Every now and then she would ogle him. Sneak a peek at him when she thought he wasn't keeping an eye out for it. But Cynder averted her eyes the instant he noticed. Was she curious? Did she want to talk too? Was this concerted effort to reach Spyro and Kilat as awkward for her as it was for him?

It amused Joshua to no end, who knew he could never look at her in the eyes. Not for long. Whenever they landed on him, he felt like Cynder was judging him. _Appraising_ him. He felt no trust, no special connection between the two of them. Not in that hollow gaze. Granted, it was better—far better than the outright hostility rushing out of Spyro's—

Joshua hissed. _No, you fool,_ he chastised himself. He shouldn't—he _mustn't_ go back to that moment. **That** was best left forgotten in Ignitus' special library.

In the end, Joshua capitulated. "I'm sorry."

And he did not regret it, for the silence had been maddening. Humankind, truly, was a social animal at its core.

Joshua's sudden apology broke the routine. His voice shattered the rhythm—fragmented the clockwork stringing him and Cynder along the same way a puppetmaster manipulated his pawns and props on a string. The black dragoness even flinched at the sound; Joshua conjectured she forgot a living, breathing "furless ape" had volunteered to be her wall, her legs… her crutch. Only had eyes for Spyro, probably.

They stopped. Cynder turned, her eyes dilating at the two words. Although her muzzle was too disfigured to properly infer her inner thoughts, with a gift from his only power Joshua sensed both the slight tremors rippling across the Heroine's sphere of life and the minimal slowdown in its rotation.

Characteristics Joshua had long applied to diffidence, to unease, or to confusion.

"I'm sorry for all of **this**," he said. "I, I never wanted things to turn out the way it did." A panorama of tragedy surrounded them. In their haste to escape, Warfang's citizens and guardsmen alike left behind the dead and lifeless. Only nine had the luxury of their lives vanishing in an instant. The rest… Honestly, Joshua couldn't look at any of them. The rest either bathed in their blood or suffered terribly from multiple organ failure.

Every corpse in front of Warfang's Gates testified to the danger he posed to the people living in the city. They brought his dreams—his **fantasies** to the gallows and hung them out to dry, dangling on a tight noose for God to whack around at His heart's content. Never would Joshua go agog at the opportunity to learn more of his Element. Never would he throw himself at his heroes or their friends at the Temple, fighting for sport instead of dear life. He would never dare to make himself at home in the so-called City of Dragons, not after this.

"I-I-I didn't want to kill any of these folk. I didn't mean to hurt Spyro." He brought his eyes to Cynder, gazing up into those spheres. But he had no hope of deciphering her expression, of divining her inner thoughts. Her lips did not move and her snout was so broken, she was better off keeping her mouth shut. "And I, I didn't mean to—

He gestured at her mouth, at _her_. "I didn't want to do **this** to you." He clenched his fists. "But I didn't really have a say in the matter. Like I tried to say earlier, I can't control my Element. I just **can't**. It—_of_ _course_ it's an Element, Cynder! Don't _look_ at me that way. Jesus Christ, I'm telling you the truth! I, I-I, I, just don't know anything about it. It's, i-it's not normal, and you know it.

"My power—my _Element_ rarely listens to me. If I try to exert my will on it, if I try to make it do something—do _anything_, it rebels. It _resists_ me. Most of the time, it does nothing. But on the off-chance something happens?" One arm's sweeping motion spoke for him. And it spoke powerfully. "Voila! Deader than dead! I can't adjust it no matter _what_ I do! It will almost always **kill** or do something _equally _horrible.

"I'm lucky I didn't kill you. And thank the Lord, Spyro didn't die instantly after I punched him. Matter of fact, it's a **miracle** I got this stupid power to stabilize him, and guess what? I didn't know how I managed it in the first place!" Joshua laughed, not from amusement but from the absurdity of it. From the Fridge Horror of knowing just how close he had been to destroying the two people he wanted to meet and greet all his life. "**F*ck**! I don't even know **what** this piece of shit Element can do! Hell, until today, I had no idea I could control the other Elements."

Joshua had done everything he could to figure out the nature of his ability. Yet, regardless of his approach, again and again and **AGAIN** it never failed to surprise him. Difficulty-of-use aside, its sheer flexibility and its disturbing potency nearly convinced Joshua Renalia that this was all just a dream, that the Dragon Realms was some sort of wish-fulfillment fantasy. He already had a power that naturally drew unwarranted attention. So how much more ostensible was it considering his very humanity was in itself a glaring anomaly among dragons and all the anthropomorphic creatures on this planet?

If this whole experience turned out to be some inane, poorly-written story uploaded onto , _Archive of Our Own_, or whatever the _Spyro _geeks used to expressing themselves and their desire to spread and nurture their creative thoughts, then, maybe—just maybe— it wouldn't be so bad. He would've gotten the recognition he so deserved, or the attention—the _public_ _interest_ in his case, on his very foreignness.

But so far this world… this video game world enjoyed f*cking with him wherever he went. Spyro and Cynder trying to kill him? That might not even be the worst to come. So however amusing—however comical it was to seek the aid, the friendship of Warfang's greatest heroes after they themselves made him out as an enemy to its populace, surviving long enough to go home and see his family again fell squarely on fostering a good, decent relationship with those two dragons.

It hurt, to even _use_ them like this. To lie to them. All to cover his own stupid ass. Mother of God. CYA? Here? In the **Dragon Realms**?A _Spyro_ fan would never do this, not to their favorite characters. Not to Spyro! Not to Cynder!

But he had to. God _f*cking_ dammit, he **had** to!

And the worst part of it was, he had to sprinkle the whole deception with itty little bits and pieces of the truth, diced, cubed, and minced. Knots of guilt looped around his heart in almost every sentence. After all, didn't the Poet Laureate Alfred Lord Tennyson once say half-truths were the blackest of lies?

"_That_, Cynder, is the reason I'm here," he managed to say with a straight face. "What I have, w-what I have is _really_ unique and **extremely** dangerous. I need help controlling it. And figuring out why **I** even have it." Joshua Renalia broke eye contact, bowing his head. He ogled the pavement, lips curled tight in a frustrated grimace. Had he been able to manipulate, to tap into his Element with far greater skill and mastery from Day 1, Kilat would have never lost Lani or her left wing. Maybe this whole fiasco could have ended before people started dropping like flies. Then again, if it wasn't for these misfortunes, he might have never missed home and worried for his loved ones so terribly. "I never asked for this."

A gurgling cough found its way out of Joshua's throat. An indescribable emotion that could only be analogized to the utter reticence following an unbelievable series of outrageous events overwhelmed the boy. "I never asked for any of this." He found himself sniffling. "I only wanted… I, I only wanted—!"

The gentle strokes of a warm, spongy thing along the side of his cheek shut him up. He turned instantly and saw Cynder's snout looming close to him, to his face. He found the ebon muzzle far too close for comfort, flashing back to Spyro's mouth opening wide to bite deep into his throat and kill him. To Rimeer bringing his teeth down on his arm. To the Red Lady bringing her head down, being friendly and touchy with the little Electric girl.

Joshua flinched at the sight of Cynder's pink tongue and scrunched his nose at the rancid smell of smoke and mayonnaise coming from her a maw that had never been subjected to the wonders of modern dentistry and personal hygiene. He leaned away, but stopped when the dragoness rubbed her warm, scaly head on his cheek. The first and possibly the last time she would ever do this with someone who wasn't even her mate.

Only then did he realize she gave her tongue a quick run on his face.

Cynder just _licked_ him. She even _nuzzled_ him!

"Eh?" He was stunned. Did that happen? Did that _seriously_ just happen? Joshua, unable to process what the Heroine had just done, brought a hand to his cheek and sought proof.

And proof was indeed found. Wetness dribbled down his cheek. His precious evidence, in fact, clung to his fingers in long, viscous strands that somehow retained its owner's natural scent. If he spent a little more time cogitating on it, he might have realized how much wider and forceful her lick was compared to Kilat's enthusiastic "bathing". Instead he blanched from astonishment. "EHHHH!" He never expected something like this, and especially not right _now_, with all that's happened. "What was **that** for? Cynder, I—

"My tenks," the Savior said. Her face crumpled from the agony of talking, of moving her injured snout. Joshua wanted to stop her, yet he couldn't resist listening to what she had to say. "You a good pehson, Josa," Cynder clarified the best she could, and empathy hummed along her pulse of life. Joshua Renalia also heard her perfectly; it was a great shame her injury made it difficult to understand her. Her words were splayed and borderline incoherent. As though she was trying to speak with her tongue sticking out. (Wouldn't be a far off description, either, after what Rimeer did.)

"I…" Joshua yanked his head away from her and focused only on the purple lump lying down on the grass. "I, I don't deserve it."

"Josa—

It pained him to say it. It pained him, after he decided he liked Cynder's voice. It sounded like a singer's, different yet similar to her voice actress back on Earth. "Please don't talk anymore," he said, eyeing the way she pawed at her snout. "I know it's hard for you to talk with, w-with **that**. Just, give it a rest. It can wait until we get your mouth fixed."

The dragoness had nothing to say to that, and responded with a slow and respectful nod when he tugged at her foreleg once again. "C'mon," he said. "Spyro's close."

Hearing how close Spyro was shifted the Savior's attention to her mate and nothing but. The Purple Dragon of Legend slept quietly a couple paces from them, and if it hadn't been for the blood drying on the blades of grass sticking out next to his muzzle, anyone could've mistaken him for taking a nice, refreshing nap next to the City of Dragons, beneath the beautiful sun.

"Spahwo!"

Cynder blurted out her mate's name as soon as they were within a step from him. She all but launched herself from the young man. She kicked off of him, not noticing Joshua stumbling backwards in her yearning to get close and see—_feel_ her beloved breathing. F*cking hell! How his muscles screamed in agony! She didn't have to do _that._ It wasn't like Spyro was going anywhere, and he already said he was stable.

He wanted to chastise her for the inconsiderate move, but his words never made it out his mouth. Because her pulse of life began to quiver more madly than it ever did—or had its shaking intensified along the way? Joshua had never noticed—and it took multiple bouts of sniffing, nuzzling, and licking before it settled down to stillness. To peace.

All these she did while muttering Spyro's name the best she could. Cynder raised a wing and draped it over the Spyro as she set down next to him. Her eyes had shut when she rubbed the full length of her body along his. That Cynder coiled her tail around the other dragon's did not escape the human's observant gaze.

Watching the black dragoness snuggle up to the great Hero of the _Legend_ trilogy drew out the suppressed fanboy inside Joshua Renalia. He shivered at this wonderful moment. It may not have been the same character that Ted Price and his team created under Universal's payroll and struck the hearts of young children across the world, but as far as the gamer was concerned, it was the same thing. How could he be a _Spyro the Dragon_ fan if he didn't accept what Sierra Entertainment had produced in his formative years? Even he had come to terms with Activision's direction with the franchise, in the end. And begrudgingly so.

No matter how screwed up the real Dragon Realms was over the fictional world presented by the _Legend _trilogy, personally witnessing with his eyes something he had seen only on DeviantArt, read on fanfiction, and imagined in his daydreams brought out a sense of satisfaction and contentment that Joshua Renalia could not describe. The little boy who grew up on a PlayStation 2 and the first generation Xbox could have never predicted he would see his favorite characters—his greatest heroes—the stars who introduced him to the wonderful world of video games for himself. Seeing this scene unfold before Joshua lessened the weight on his shoulders. It held at bay the inexorable sadness stalking him with the persistence and fortitude of a hunter.

But only for a moment.

The sorrow that pursued the adolescent took aim and released its weapon. It struck Joshua in the heart, tearing right through every strand of joy, every wave of pleasure lifting him up. He sunk into the deep sea of gloom, and his happiness quickly faltered—_disappeared _when he remembered **why** Spyro and Cynder were reduced to this… this… to **this** in the first place.

In her haste to shower the Purple Dragon with all her love and affection, Cynder had forgotten she had an audience and proceeded to an outstanding display of her devotion to her mate. A display every single Spy/Cy shipper throughout the Internet would **kill** to see up close and personal.

And Joshua Renalia _turned away_. He averted his eyes away from something he knew he would never again have the privilege and opportunity to witness himself. Jesus Christ, what was he doing? The _Spyro_ fan in him was up in arms over this. He was certain—deadly certain that if he published this experience on a blog or a Youtube video, all those Spy/Cy shippers who bothered to give his narrative any sort of attention—if they believed him at all—would criticize him.

Hell, they would all **condemn** him.

But Joshua's heart ached terribly. He couldn't watch. He couldn't watch any of this. He did this. He was _personally_ responsible for this. How could he let his own selfish wishes override his very _decency_ as a human being? It felt wrong.

His eyes searched for Kilat. He found her, sleeping a few steps away, exactly where he unceremoniously dropped the child to protect her from Infernape's sneaky, dishonorable gambit.

Joshua dared a glance up, ogling the shining star above them. With a hand shading his viridian eyes, he studied the blinding orb the best he could. Its bright, golden rays—oh. It had a different color from the Earth's sun. Pure white. Slightly bluish. The radiant sphere shone even brighter than Sol.

If he needed any more signs telling him he was in a different world—a different _planet_ with apparently different _rules_, then that was it. After seeing that for himself, he was certain he would barely recognize the night sky if he subjected it to closer scrutiny, for the constellations he learned at a younger age, in an observatory.

…All of a sudden, he didn't have the desire to even check _that_ out for himself. For all he knew, he could very well be in another galaxy altogether.

Joshua strolled over to the unconscious child. The hairs on his neck prickled, and from that he knew the only other dragoness still alive around him had ceased cuddling into her mate like a naïve, lovestruck adolescent and tracked him with eyes as teal and green as his own. But he did not care anymore. He had no plans of running. Why would he? Why would he risk his neck _out_ _there_ again? Why would he even think of leaving Kilat alone? She needed him almost as much as he needed **her**.

The boy descended to one knee. He reached down and picked up the child from the ground. Her small, yellow body rested in his arms. As soon as he rose and carried her in a makeshift "bed" of skin, flesh, and bone, the dragon squirmed. She nuzzled the crook of his elbow. He felt the little girl take a few deep sniffs. She enjoyed the human's scent and, though unconscious, hummed happily at the familiarity and safety it now provided to her.

Joshua wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder, relying on the sleeve of whatever remained of his shirt. He bit back a curse, feeling his flat, unimpressive stomach exposed to the elements. He wanted to get rid of it—it was falling apart on him!—but it was one of the last remaining keepsakes of his home, other than his flannel pajamas. Thank God the trousers weren't as f*cked up as his shirt. Though the fabric bore some minor damage, he believed the former was serviceable and needed deep cleaning to scrub out all the dirt and grime… and Spyro's blood.

Thinking about his childhood hero in such a horrific state made him sick. He resisted the urge to throw up. No, Joshua! He had to remember, he was okay now. He just needed a place to recuperate, maybe replenish all the blood he's lost or something, and—ah! How the hell would he know what to do with Spyro anyway? He wasn't a doctor, let alone one that _specialized _in dragons! He's just a stupid, shitty brat who didn't know **anything** about the world.

Oh God, at the rate he's messing up, whatever Joshua knew about the _Legendverse_ from the good, old TLOS days didn't matter. He would be lucky—very lucky—if he got into Warfang mostly unharmed. _Preferably_ with his right arm still attached.

Joshua Renalia went back to the two Heroes. He met Cynder's watchful eyes and sat next to the dragoness, cross-legged. He took care not to lean on the Savior as though she was his pet or a pack animal. They were not mates, and they certainly weren't friends. For sure the concept of personal space existed in his place in one form or another, and he didn't want to offend one of the few people who would no longer attack him on sight.

He set Kilat between his legs. He smiled at the way the Electric dragon-child naturally curled up around them. Joshua hunched over her, touched her snout with his nose, and rubbed it. She giggled in her sleep. How adorable! Seeing the little girl like this melted his heart enough to distract him from whatever plagued his waking thoughts.

Unfortunately, one of them was Cynder, and a black paw resting on his leg stripped the smile off his face. She demanded his attention.

She cracked her mouth open, and attempted to speak properly. What came out sounded like a cat's meow, and she hissed from pain. Cynder tried again before Joshua could stop her, and this time she managed to say something. "Why, Joshua?" Almost spit it out. "Why help? You, had, every right."

Every right to run away with the little girl.

To abandon Spyro to his death and leave a vulnerable Cynder alone with Rimeer and his followers.

Joshua Renalia considered her question. He let the silence drag on. He broke eye contact with her, to stare at the slumbering Kilat. He stroked her snout. Rubbed the golden belly and felt the smooth scales where they weren't as thick and where they were warmest. In the end, he decided to be honest with her. "You're my hero, Cynder," he confessed.

Honest, at least, to the extent he did not look like a raving lunatic. There was simply no way in hell he could come clean with his origin story. As much as he loathed it, Joshua couldn't find himself completely trusting either of them. "Both you and Spyro are. I've always looked up to the two of you. If, i-i-if you both died today," his voice trailed. He sniffled. "It would've"—he sniffle again—"It would've broken my heart."

Cynder had no reply for him.

She was completely and utterly speechless.

Joshua finally turned to her after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, and only then did he see the most dumbfounded expression plastered on her gawping muzzle. It accentuated the deformities Rimeer left behind, and he almost ruined the moment with tactless chuckles. "You looked up to me?" Cynder blurted out. She flinched. "OW!" Her paw flew up to the fractured bone. She tenderly rubbed the muzzle. Agony for speaking too loudly, too forcefully. Too clearly. Damn, she **really** needed an HP crystal. It was too bad the nearest one outside the walls sprouted up about three minutes away—he could sense the gems. Though it, may not be appropriate for him to leave the two dragons and grab it. Not right now. "**ME**? Yer_ heewo_?"

Ahh, that's right. This might have been the first time she ever heard something like this from another. Considering that debacle earlier, a great many people in Warfang must hate her still, and if she had friends in the city other than Spyro and the Guardians—any friends at all—she must have _earned_ their friendship, and over the years she spent helping people. The surprise she regarded him with said enough.

Joshua wanted nothing more than to release his inner fanboy all over Cynder, to expound on that train of thought. But he held his tongue. He **had** to. How could he say anything now? He couldn't afford giving Cynder any reminder to analyze his background, and thanks to that godforsaken cockup, Joshua hadn't come up with a lie proper and solid tale everyone would believe without question.

He suppressed the urge and shot back. "Yes. You heard me right. I know you did all those terrible things before, but that won't change the fact you're **my** hero, too. You've always been, since I was young."

Cynder stared at him, her jaw open and reaching for the ground for much longer (and wider) than what human society considered polite. Her sphere of life seemed to gleam, sparkling a little brighter than normal. A smile ghosted the fringes of her muzzle before she turned away and her life signature chilled. The expression on her snout looked just as guilty as Joshua's, and because of the disfiguration it unsettled him far more than it already did. "I, I'm sowwy," she murmured. "Foh whut **we** did."

For trusting in Spyro despite doubting his judgment.

For trying to _murder him_ even after he begged multiple times for his life.

What little happiness Joshua drew from Kilat, his confession to Cynder, and the fact he conversed with a revered godde—a hero of his vanished as fast as the past hour or so flickered in his thoughts through brief but powerful flashes. His lips flattened into a tight, emotionless line. He gazed down at Kilat, hoping he could forget she mentioned _that_.

"I hep you."

"Huh?"

"I'll **help** you," Cynder stressed, eyes scrunched. She _really_ couldn't speak properly without the blazing agony that came with it. "I thok to da gardins."

Her words may have been slurred, but Joshua understood her. She would talk to the Guardians for him? That would be sweet! But doubt and skepticism—not distrust—nagged at him until all the color drained from his face. "I don't know if that'll work now. After all **this bullshit**"—he gestured to all the bodies around them—"I'm pretty much _dead_!"

"Not wizzat my hep."

"B-but, but I, uh, but I killed so many! There's a dead 'Guardian Candidate' among 'em. The Purple Dragon's covered in his blood and you're—

"Dey wunt kell you, but I can't pwamis anythang moh. Okay, kid?"

In other words, hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and expect nothing, just like what John Jay said back in the 1800s. He had to be prepared for whatever would happen and accept whatever consequences he'd receive from Warfang's judicial system.

"Okay," he said. "Okay-okay-okay. I got it." Joshua sighed. "Praise God. At least, I'll get to keep my life."

Joshua took a deep breath. If he was being honest with himself, the news relieved him immensely. He already won Sparx over when he saved Spyro from bleeding out, and with all that's happened after the goddamned unreliable insect bailed on him, even Cynder's on his side now. Joshua doubted they would be enough to gain some measure of trust from Spyro or the Guardians, but it was better than nothing. Much better than a guaranteed death sentence.

If he was lucky, maybe this also meant he would have the opportunity to openly discuss his issues with his power and his singular, over-arching objective, not to mention the possible reasons God brought him to the Dragon Realms.

Even if he received none of those and was doomed to several years of solitary imprisonment, Joshua Renalia could still see the glinting silver lining the dark, imposing clouds ahead. Because, at the very least, Kilat would have the opportunity to live the life Lani and Explodon wanted for her, and she'd have easy access to him, so the child would never be truly left alone.

He glanced down at the little girl in question. If only she was awake. The human caressed the small dragoness, fondling her ears. He smiled at the way it twitched. _Everything's going to be fine, Kilat, and I'll still be with you_.

"Josa."

Cynder's voice dragged the teenager out of his happy thoughts. He trained his gaze at her, and blinked at the way she regarded him with dilated eyes, full of curiosity. "Tell me 'bout yarsel. Weh yar fwom." Joshua couldn't help but stare at the way her tongue flopped around in her disfigured muzzle. It revolted him. This was not the way he wanted to remember Cynder when he thought of her. It… simply didn't jive with the image he had of her in his head. He hoped the people in Warfang could help her with it. "Whut adda hoo-mans are like."

Joshua maintained a confused expression for his response. He gave his head the appropriate tilt. "But, why?" he asked. Deep inside, he sweated bullets. Not now. _Damn it, Cynder. Not, f*cking, now!_

"I a-ready toll you."

Damn. She got him there. "That's, th-that's true…"

"Spahwo will _ohso_ wanna know," the black dragoness added. The underlying hint stood out if Joshua spent even a single moment to think about it. Spyro was a curious one, even back in _A New Beginning_. The way he was now, the gamer was certain this meant he would accost him about his origins as soon as he woke up and was physically able to do so. He wouldn't put it past the Purple Dragon to talk to him, **literally** **snout-to-face**.

Joshua Renalia blanched at the thought of Spyro getting in his face about _anything_, at _any time_ in the foreseeable future. Telling Cynder something—_anything _to satiate even a **little** of her interest delayed _that_ conversation. And the longer he could avoid Spyro, the better. He sought for an excuse, for a meaningless detail to get the two Saviors off his back, but his mind drew blanks. It kept drawing blanks, and he hesitated to reply.

The gamer in him chastised the boy for his hesitation. Why be reluctant about this? Wasn't he living out every _Spyro_ fan's dream of a lifetime? Not only was he already conversing with a protagonist of the _Legend _trilogy—and one of the community's favorites at that, considering how many writers made original characters who were practically Cynder's carbon copies—but he also had the prospect of speaking just as closely with **the** Purple Dragon himself.

By all rights, he should be _excited_ for a chance to talk to Spyro and Cynder.

The **real** Spyro and Cynder!

Not Elijah Wood. Not Christina Ricci or Mae Whitman.

And certainly not Jared Pullen or Bruno Rime.

After all, didn't characters have a life of their own? Weren't authors, actors, and artists merely conduits of what could _possibly_ be, rather than narrators of what _actually_ were?

He shouldn't even hesitate about his origins in the first place. He should yell it, announce it—say it and be damn proud of it! Joshua Renalia should come clean with everything. Absolutely everything, and throw it all to the wind. That's what every gamer—every fan in his place would do, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

But in spite of all he felt about this unique situation, _notwithstanding everything his inner fanboy wanted to do, _Joshua stopped himself before he plummeted into this deep rabbit hole. He stood over it, realizing not only how far down the ground it went but also the vast darkness—the uncertainty hidden within. There would be no going back if he leaped in.

Had this all been a dream, had this all been some weird fantasy playing out in his head, maybe Joshua would have jumped. Maybe he would have taken that leap of faith if neither Spyro nor Cynder tried to _execute _him or if the Dragon Realms never reared its ugly head and remained the ultimate fantasy it should have been.

But this was real life.

**Real f*cking life**.

And that alone terrified him.

Fortunately, the perfect excuse literally squirmed in his legs. Two rows of short, but incredibly sharp teeth tickled his thighs, and a tongue coated in thick saliva flicked the skin once, twice before the pitched voice of a little girl called for him. "Jo, Joshua?"

He glanced down to find cobalt pools opening up beneath him. Kilat was conscious. Aware and alert. Praise the Lord Almighty.

Joshua glanced back up at Cynder. "Sorry," he apologized and bowed his head a little. "I guess we'll have to talk about this another time."

The black dragoness rebutted with an indistinct grunt and a not-so-subtle roll of eyes as green as his. _"This conversation isn't over,"_ the gesture seemed to say, before Cynder drew closer to Spyro and gave her mouth a rest. Even if she didn't properly enunciate most of her words, conversing with Joshua must have hurt regardless.

Still the human paid no more attention to the Heroine of the Dragon Realms, for he instead concentrated on the small dragon lying comfortably on his legs. "Hey, girl!" he greeted the child. "You're awake."

Kilat's body twisted and turned, all four paws stretching outward, like a cat stretching on a comfortable bed. She batted the hand caressing her snout before her eyes finally focused on the teenager's brown face and his mirthful smile. "Joshua!" the Electric dragoness brightened. She sat up, easily reaching his eyes. "You're okay!" Her muzzle agape in a cheery rictus, Kilat remained woefully oblivious to Joshua's discomfort at every single claw on all four of her feet poking into his bare skin.

Inelegant and devoid of any grace, the child dropped her snout on his shoulder and brought her tiny arms about the young man in a snug embrace. She even managed to get her right wing to arc right round his back. It looked—it felt awkward, coming from a quadruped. "You're **really** okay. I, I-I, I, I tried to help you—I did the best I could—but that _bully_ knocked me out! When I woke up, I thought, I, I almost thought you"—she snuffled—"you, y-you, I almost thought they—

"Everything's all right, Kilat." Joshua Renalia hugged the little girl just as tightly. "I'm still here. It got _really_ close a few times, but in the end, they didn't get me." He gave one of her ears a gentle tug, and chuckled at the slight twitch it gave. How adorable.

She nuzzled the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, Joshua…"

"Huh?"

"If, i-i-if I was stronger," she whined, biting back her tears. "It would've _never_ 'come close'. I, I would have, I, I-I would have…!"

"Shhhhh." He stroked her head, traced his hand along it and touched the stump that used to be her left wing. "It's okay. You did what you could. But hey, even after you got the daylights pounded out of you, Jesus Christ, what you did back there, it was great. _Amazing_. I've never seen anything like it."

Her head rolled sideways a little. "What happened to Infernape?" She asked, as though the praise went right through her ears. Cobalt eyes trained their gaze at him, mystified and enquiring. "And how'd you get the Purple Dragon to stop?" she spoke without missing a beat. "H-he wanted to kill—Oh nooo…

The dragon-child let out a horrified gasp. "What happened to your **ear**?" Kilat bumped her snout on the gross, unsightly gash that Spyro himself replaced his left ear with. "Ancestors! It's gone!" Joshua flinched as Kilat ran her nose across the scar, across the exposed nerves. He felt her sniffing around, putting it under scrutiny. "It's _really_ gone!"

"It was either that or a hole in my skull," Joshua rebutted. "_Obviously_," he added with a chuckle, "I'd take the missing ear every time; beats missing a brain or even a part of—

"Joshuaa**aaa**! This isn't funny," the little girl nagged. "I don't want—I can't have you dead! I need you. _I really, really need you_! I don't know what I'd do if you died, and all because of something **stupid**!"

If Spyro, Infernus, Rimeer, or any of the other dragons and armed guard had truly succeeded in killing him, it would've traumatized the young dragoness. Worse, it would have also destroyed any trust she might have had for Warfang, its people, its leaders, and its esteemed heroes. Joshua wilted from the disturbing realization. "Oh, Kilat…"

"What else?"

Without waiting for him, Kilat pushed off from Joshua. She balanced herself on his thighs, eyes going up and down, inspecting his body. "What else happened to you?"

With the shirt visibly torn—practically falling to pieces after what's been done to him, she had the front seat view to his exposed stomach and irrefutable evidence of doping on those wonderful crystals. Kilat's jaw popped open and _stayed_ open while she took in **everything** her eyes could see on him. The various scars. All the ugly, barely-healed wounds. A giant, starfish-shaped scar from one of those goddamned arrows. Blood splattered on what remained of his clothes. A right hand with visible tears across the skin, looking like a mad dog gnashed at it. A right _arm_ that looked like an _even bigger and madder dog_ had its way with it…

"Y-you got hurt all over! Ancestors above, what did they **do** to you?" She stretched out her neck to run her muzzle across every inch of his chest, abdomen, and arms. "**Who** did this?" she doted on him. "Looking at you, I'm sure it can't have just been the Purple Dragon!"

Joshua found himself gazing into Kilat's cobalt eyes. Concern and worry shone in them; after blurting out how much she needed him, the gamer felt immense guilt at gambling on Warfang's people with all the cards stacked against him. He had a child relying on him. A little girl who would much rather live the life of a vagrant—a beggar than see the person who took her in maimed and bloodied by the very city she and her friends wished to seek refuge in.

Joshua Renalia had miscalculated how much risk he actually took, walking up to the front door.

Kilat quaked, having trouble to say the words, to admit what _should_have happened. "But then you, y-you don't, you _don't_ _look_ like you've just flown through a storm cloud."

All thoughts of self-admonishment and guilt vanished, hearing those words. He was lucky he understood the figure of speech this time. On impulse, the young man brought his hands closer, palms wide and ready as they drew closer to her head.

"Ancestors, I shouldn't be _questioning_ the blessing they gave me," she shook her head and reproached herself. "But I gotta know." She leaned to Joshua's right and, for the first time, took in the surroundings, letting her own curiosity take initiative. "What happened while I was out co—H-hey!"

She never realized until it was far too late. The fanboy clasped his palms over those bright, astounded blue seas, pulled her muzzle into his chest, and held the child tight. "**Hey**!"

Kilat squirmed in his grip. Her one wing flared open, and had Joshua paid Cynder's sphere of life any attention, he would've sensed it spike outward in reaction to his sudden move and the little girl's equally conspicuous response. "Joshua!"

Joshua Renalia still wanted to protect her.

Because Kilat was young.

Because Kilat was far too young to expose her innocence to the real life **again**.

Once—no, _twice_ was enough. She still had a few years of childhood left to enjoy, and he had come to enjoy the relationship they currently had. He may have informed her what his Element typically did back in the Dry Canyon, but from what he remembered, he left out the graphic details. All of them.

If she knew what he was truly capable of…

Goddammit all, Joshua simply didn't want to see their relationship change going forward.

"Don't look," he pleaded.

"Get your hands off my face!"

"_Please_, Kilat. You don't want to see this."

"Eeeeeeehhhh! Let go. Let go of me!"

"_Kilat_!"

"No! Noooo. I'm not letting this go." She growled. "**Ancestors**, Joshua! I'll give you double—no, _triple_ the sweeps in every bath you get for the next year and **worse** if you don't let me—

"I'll take it," he told her. "I don't care. I'll take all of it. Just don't look, _please_."

"But why? **WHY? **What're you _hiding_? Why can't I see what happened?" Frustration colored her voice. "Grr, don't tell me this is one of those silly things I'm 'too young' for! Why does **everyone** **older than me** do this?"

She wriggled. She writhed in his hands. Kilat's right wing slapped him in the face. Its wing claws scraped across his cheek, but neither that nor the increased discomfort from the electric dragoness's feet on his bare skin dissuaded him from sparing the child the carnage his first encounter with the people of Warfang left behind.

"Don't **do** this to me! You _know_ I'll find out about it sooner or later."

Her pleas falling on deaf ears, the gamer could only hug her tighter.

"Joshuaaaaaa!"

Without warning, a gust of wind smacked his forehead. Too weak to knock the human over and release the little girl, it carried enough strength to yank his attention away from his dependent and move his head up, where he saw a pair of teal pools gazing back at him.

Joshua Renalia did **not** enjoy making eye contact with Cynder. Every time his viridian gaze touched hers, he felt as though she saw through him, objectively questioning him. Judging him. He found it unsettling, especially when, in another life, he had seen those same eyes struggling from grief and self-loathing.

Spyro's mate shook her head disapprovingly. She flicked her disfigured snout at _everything_ around them before coming back and glowering at the human. Joshua did not require a superior intelligence quotient to know Cynder just gave him—without uttering a word—very good advice. Advice on **parenting**, of all things. Mother of God, he was only sixteen! A stupid teenager who didn't have to worry about deciding what a child should and shouldn't know, who only wanted to immerse himself in video games and fun.

_She needs to know_.

_She'll learn about it quicker than you think._

_Better to tell her yourself than hear about it from others._

_She's old enough._

_Trust her_.

_**Trust her**_.

"F*ck me!" Joshua cursed. "Fine! Jesus f*cking Christ, **fine**! Have it your damn way!"

Cynder was quick to draw her head back to Spyro, but Joshua's eyes did not mistake the small smirk forming on her lips for anything else. F*ck being a parent, he told himself. He would **never** have children of his own for the rest of his life. _Natasha can go f*ck herself the day she'll want a damn kid_.

He took a deep breath. "All right, Kilat," he said. "You win."

"I win?" She stopped wriggling.

"Yeah. You can look. You're—ugh, I don't want to say this, but after what you've been through, you deserve to know," Joshua admitted.

Kilat did not reply. Regardless, he followed through on this decision and relinquished the ten-year old dragoness to wherever she saw fit to be. The girl sat up, cobalt eyes tentative and watching the human for any more "sudden moves".

"So I win?" _You're not going back on this?_

Reluctantly, "Yes." _No, I'm not._

"Yey!" replied the child, before making a sudden move of her own. The Electric dragoness jerked forward and nipped the bridge of Joshua's nose. Sharp teeth and all.

"**OW**!" He rubbed at his sore nose, wiping off specks of saliva and blood before reaching out to grab the girl, but by then, she had darted away from reach. "What the f*ck…"

Kilat blew a rather loud raspberry in his ear as she scampered behind him to acquire a good position and assess their surroundings.

Her life signature contracted momentarily. It heralded a pregnant silence. Joshua grimaced as he imagined the dragoness memorizing every detail, every contour of the patch of land in front of Warfang's eastern gates. The gamer visualized—as easily as he would imagine himself _being_ the player character in many a video game—Kilat choking from the corpses of dragons, moles, llamas, and cheetahs littering the grasslands, many of them killed in a way that would've made Ryuk of _Death Note_ fame proud. The body count now exceeded 16 by a long shot, after he sliced through one of Rimeer's fellow dragons, after his power had gone and done _something_—until now he could not even remember **what** it did—to make all those bastard archers go away and die.

How many of those bodies looked like the Alpha death hound, grotesquely swollen, discolored in a hideous black crust, and emitting the disgusting stench of the newly dead? How many of them stared back at Kilat with glassy, catatonic eyes? With their lifeless maws held agape, as if multiple Dementors descended upon them and administered the dreaded Kiss in bulk, seconds before invisible Death Eaters finished them all off with the Killing Curse for added measure?

Did she notice the patches of grass literally drained of life until they were gray and decayed? Could the child even perceive the insignificant insects and worms that fell victim to his power? What about the blood bespattering the lands, the blood _he himself_ spilled when Warfang's people, guards and civilians alike, all sought his death? Did she see the Purple Dragon of Legend too, covered in his own blood and looking like he narrowly eluded the Grim Reaper at the last second?

What did Kilat make of it all?

Joshua Renalia was terrified of her feedback, of what she thought of him after seeing the horrific potency of his Element for herself. The boy dreaded that much more than even the fresh memory of his childhood heroes baring their teeth at him. Worst of all, he discovered it was virtually impossible to prepare himself for her reactions. Reluctantly, he turned his head. He lifted his chin up slowly, towards the little girl.

An expression of monumental disbelief had stuck itself to her mouth, and it refused to come off despite how much Joshua wished it. Her eyes, fully dilated as expected, was petrified. Nailed down at the center of the schlera. It mirrored the tightest contraction he'd ever sensed in Kilat's pulse of life.

Uncurling from his lotus posture, Joshua tested the waters. "Kilat?" he said.

Saying her name pulled the Electric dragoness out of her trance. Pools as azure as the skies on the midday concentrated on him. She jolted on eye contact. "Hey, Kilat?" Joshua tried again with a tentative move towards her. "Are you—

She inched **back**.

Her wing curved around her lean body, growing taut as though preparing for flight. The stump also curled inward. It reflected the way she crumpled defensively and shielded both her belly and snout from sight. Joshua caught his breath at the pleading whine that came out of her. As seconds passed, he could barely _process _how the only true friend and ally he had in this goddamned fantasy-turned-_hell_ was turning her back on him, before his eyes. Jesus Christ, she was **terrified**. He couldn't mistake the shimmering ripples in her life signature for anything **but** foreboding.

Joshua Renalia was crushed. Should he cry? Should he weep? Should he turn away in shame? He had no idea what to do.

Almighty Father, _why_? Why the f*ck did he listen to Cynder? What did _she _know about parenting, huh? It wasn't like she and Spyro had a clutch these past four years! (_Did they?_) A hand reached out to her. "Kilat, I promise you, I—

She curled in tighter, shifting a little farther away from his reach. "A-all those people," she said, utterly appalled. "You, y-you, you…!"

Joshua could not break his eyes away from hers. The way she cowered in front of him broke his heart. It was a reminder. A brutal reminder of her youth. A callback, to the way they met a few days ago. That they weren't as close as he might've wanted. That before their chance encounter Kilat had been a war orphan, and Joshua an ignorant, lazy-ass student, for more than a decade.

"Yes," he noted solemnly. "I did it. All _that_. That was me." Worst of all, he remembered little of it, catching only hazy images, a great distress, and impulsive thoughts borne of desperation and a strong desire to live.

Regardless of this, Renalia's instincts, whatever they were, compelled the human to reach out for the third time. Kilat flinched at his approach but, maybe remembering what he'd done for her or respecting his honesty, forced herself steady not long after.

His touch stiffened her, but Joshua Renalia disregarded that and pulled the dragon-child into a hug. "But it's not my fault. You **know** that. I even told you a couple nights ago how _dangerous_ my Element is."

"I know." The little girl shivered in his arms. "I know, I know, I **know**! My, m-my thing is, s-seeing it all myself—looking at the Purple Dragon—I, I-I-I…" She had trouble finding the words. "I, I don't, I, I-I just don't—

"I understand," he said, with a sad smile. "Still, you have to admit: it's a good thing I _do _have this Element. If I didn't…"

Joshua would have literally shat himself to death on Day 1, if not turned into dog food by the pack of Death Hounds if he somehow survived dysentery long enough to last until nightfall. Meanwhile Kilat would have died of acute poisoning, severe blood loss, even starvation. Whichever came first.

She would've been alone out there, in the Dry Canyon.

Terrified.

Dejected.

With the sight of Warfang taunting her until she finally gave in and caved.

The unspoken argument brought another round of long, uncomfortable silence. Unable to make heads or tails of her life signature, Joshua worried if everything had truly changed between them. Sensing the blue, rigid pulse of her life warm up to a calmer state ameliorated his concerns somewhat, but he knew something had changed, for the little girl no longer found security and comfort with him. He discerned at least that much from the lingering tension in her body language. The springiness in her legs. The underlying ripples within her sphere of life.

Still, the fact Kilat acknowledged his words gave Joshua some hope.

"At least Infernape's gone," she muttered. "I'm hap—I'm _not_ going to cry over that _shitty bastard_."

That did _not _escape his ears. "Kilat!"

"Huh, what?"

"Don't say that! That's a bad word."

"But, you say stuff like that **all the time**. Besides, I don't even know what it means."

He sighed. _Someone_ _f*ck me. _With Kilat discovering what he was capable of and trying to rein in her own fear of him, right now was _not_ an appropriate time for a lecture on cursing. "I beg you. Just, just **don't**, okay? It doesn't suit you."

"Am I 'too young' for that too?" She frowned.

"Yes—I mean, no! But—you know, it depends on—ahhh **shit**. It just, it just doesn't give off a good impression, okay? If, i-if you _really_ want to know what those mean, ask me later. I won't hide anything else from you."

That was a lie. There was his origin story, after all...

"Okaaaaay." The child nuzzled the crook of his shoulder, exhaling a tensely-held breath. "I'm… sorry. It's hard to, to look past what you did and remember _you_ _saved me_ too_. _But I'll do it, Joshua. I really will. I _can_ trust you, can I?"

God bless this little girl! Maybe it was her life as an orphan, maybe it was something that came with her family, or maybe it was the way she somehow—like animals back on Earth—saw who exactly he was, but somehow, Kilat far surpassed his younger sister in maturity. She impressed him so much he couldn't help beaming when he reassured her, rubbing the golden scales on her head. "You can. You know I'd do anything for you, Kilat."

For better or for worse, Joshua omitted any guarantees on how effective he'd actually be at it. Not when the whole shitstorm that happened here _resulted_ from a decision he made _for her benefit_. Thank God nobody ever reads the fine print.

And that was also a lie. There was his whole journey home, after all…

Any compunction that may have lingered in Joshua's thoughts for blatantly lying to a child as young and as innocent as Kilat disappeared when he felt the girl rubbing her snout on his cheek, her life signature a warm, but still uncertain auburn. A wordless gesture of thanks, and it meant a lot to the teenager as much as his commitment did to her.

Joshua Renalia glanced at Cynder, who had been peeking at their little show of drama all this time. They made eye contact once again and this time she made no effort to hide her smirk. The gamer was infuriated at his inability to decide whether he should be pissed off at the bitch for being right, or grateful at the Savior for _being right_.

"Soooo…"

Kilat withdrew from her gesture of appreciation and happiness. She backed away from Joshua, her expression still radiating some optimism for the future ahead. "Everything's over, right? We're out of this?"

"I think so. All we need to do is wait for the Guardians to fly down here and I'll have a chance to explain things. No point in running now; they'll think I'm some 'bad guy' otherwise."

The child released a frustrated sigh of her own. "Warfang people are _stupid_." Cynder's smirk widened at that remark, obviously in agreement. "At least that means we can finally talk."

"Talk about what?"

"There's one last thing I've been wanting to ask you."

"Go right ahead."

Her expression became a dark grimace. Kilat's right wing flared out, and her cobalt eyes narrowed at the black dragoness lying next to Spyro, watching the two of them as she'd been doing all this time. "Why?" she questioned him. "Why defend Cynder?"

"I told you, Kilat. She's not an enemy."

"Do you know, Joshua?" the child asked, not directly acknowledging what he said about her. "Do you know how much I **want** to attack her with everything I got? To make her pay?"

Cynder's smug grin vanished, her disfigured lips retreating into an uncertain but somber line. Kilat's sudden 180° shift from distrust and fright to outright hostility surprised both her and the gamer.

"No," he said. "But I can imagine." Joshua pointed at the bloodied corpse of the Ice Dragon who had nearly severed his right arm. Flies, attracted by the stench of fresh meat, had begun to swarm the dead body—a likely scenario for the other corpses around them. "Remember Rimeer? He started all this. He tried to kill her out of revenge, then use his authority to get away with it." The human's gaze bore into Kilat's. "And I stopped him."

"Why?" she exclaimed. "She's **evil**! Nobody's called 'Terror of the Skies' for nothing! I can't even _imagine _how many died because of her!" Indignation shuddered through the child. "Do you, d-do you _actually _know how much that, that **demon** enjoyed killing them all?"

The truth was, Joshua didn't know. _A New Beginning_ never went so far as to demonstrate the years Cynder spent being Malefor's right hand. To his knowledge, _The Eternal Night _did not completely show the depth of her guilt and shame either. In spite of his familiarity with _Legend_'s lore, the gamer simply couldn't remember if DragonOfIceAndFire ever asked Jared Pullen about Cynder's past. Nothing like that ever cropped up in the DeviantArt page. He'd have known otherwise.

Renalia tried to stall. "I, I'm—goddammit, that dragon isn't—

It was futile. "Cynder _killed_ my siblings! She **toyed** with them the same way she played with _my parents_. Treated the way they fought tooth and claw for my life—for _their_ lives like a game. Ancestors, **like a game**!"

Joshua had to exert all his willpower to keep himself stoic, to not reveal any kind of tell. But f*cking hell, even for a spellbound servant, that was too far, too sadistic. And Kilat was about three at the time? Damn it all, something like that would never be forgotten, especially when it happened in front of a person _that young_. She must have had nightmares for months.

"She lied to our families, made us betray each other for her own _sick pleasure_, and, a-and—!

He saw Cynder turn her head away in shame, perhaps recalling the memory and the twisted ecstasy that came with it.

"But she's not the same dragon," he protested. "**She's, not, that, dragon**! The Purple Dragon saved her from—

"I don't care!"

"The Guardians said she's okay now!"

"They don't speak for me!"

"She's been making up for it for years! She even helped the Purple Dragon. This planet would've been destroyed if she didn't—

"That won't bring my family back!" Tears trickled down the child's snout.

"Neither will revenge."

"She just gets away with it then? How's that even fair?"

"Kilat, you're acting just like those guards—like those Warfang people."

She huffed. "Well they have the right idea then!"

"I don't understand any of this! What **else** do you want from Cynder? She's living a life of **service**!"

"I don't understand why **you're **defending her!" Kilat yelled at him. "She doesn't deserve that life! I want justice, Joshua. **Justice**!"

Jesus-Mary-Joseph, he had no chance of turning this around. Joshua needed much, much longer than a few days to make the Electric dragoness understand where he came from. Maybe even longer than that, if he couldn't tell her anything that hinted at his origins. Joshua worried Kilat might not even forgive Cynder in the future.

Emotions were always a difficult thing to predict—to anticipate or influence. Oftentimes, it was impossible to sway, for any variety of reasons, up to and including _mere whimsy_. Growing up, Joshua Renalia encountered this emotional drama bullshit multiple times back on Earth. With his parents, with his siblings, with his extended family, with his friends and classmates. Shit, he even had to deal with drama in his relationship with Natasha.

Sometimes the reasons he received never made sense to him, despite deep reflection on it. Sometimes his reasons never made sense to the others, either. But that's just how it was; no life was ever perfect. Some kids had abusive, even criminal parents. Some had premature deaths in the family. Maybe others had to deal with external things, like relentless bullying or the inability to socialize.

If the world worked like a well-oiled machine, untainted by the constant struggle between good and evil, maybe everyone would have lived lives of logic, or mutual respect. Hell, if the Dragon Realms was the magical, fantastic Never Land it was supposed to be—

F*ck this place! F*ck the Dragon Realms. Why was it just the same? Why were people here just as prejudiced, emotional, and damned unstable as shit as the people back home?

Joshua hissed in frustration. They needed to revisit this again. He at least had to get Kilat to warm up to the idea it's just to have Cynder—a fully reformed Cynder live. "Oh God," he said. "Look, we're getting nowhere with this. How about we set this aside for now and—

Multiple spheres of life breached Joshua's maximum range of detection. In one inexplicable moment, he knew every single one approached the top of the wall at high speeds. Three of the signatures carried an enormous presence. Great power rippled within their pulses.

Joshua Renalia smiled.

The Guardians had **finally** arrived.

* * *

Watching Joshua and Kilat together inflated Cynder's confidence. Truly, the human _was_ a good person. The way the apparent prodigy fawned over him as soon as she woke—latched onto him even, like a child would to her own mother—evidenced the closeness of their relationship. That, the assistance he rendered earlier, and the very fact he did not run away when he had the motive and every opportunity to do so proved Joshua's integrity as an individual. Nothing else could be better.

Guilt resurged in Cynder. Until now the dragoness who was once the feared Terror of the Skies could not comprehend Spyro's decision, yet all she had to go on were the enormous burden he shouldered on his wings, the exceeding protectiveness laid upon those he loved the most, and the limitless resolve to minimize damage by every means possible.

When he told her there was something wrong with the young man, when he _insisted_ on putting Joshua down for the sake of peace, she should have tried harder. She should have stopped him. Asserted her position, having already confirmed the boy's pacific disposition. She should have trusted Joshua back then, too. But looking back at it, it would've been impossible. Her memory was still fresh from maddening rage. Cynder would much rather see Warfang burn to the ground than see Spyro dead.

Such oversight weighed heavily on her. Cynder's shame grew when the young man forgave her, and so _easily_. She felt her guts lurch when he called her a hero. Joshua considered her a hero? A **hero**? Just like that? No skepticism, no condescension, no crazy hoops and expectations, despite knowing _exactly who she was_? Even she couldn't believe it. Nobody in the City of Dragons **ever** thought of her as a hero during the first meeting. Nobody **ever** forgot the Terror of the Skies. Even the little dragoness under Joshua's care remembered her.

Thinking about the girl shook Cynder. It brought up memories. Terrible memories. Her last act of genocide, in Malefor's name, took place only months before Spyro defeated her cursed form in the realm of Convexity. Tipped off by a trader they snatched, tortured, and procedurally disposed on the existence of a hidden but surprisingly prosperous settlement of dragons within a peat swamp forest, where the trees were as large, as formidable as fortresses and the surrounding land practically impassable to the untrained traveler. Intent on crushing this unhatched egg months, maybe years, before it produced organized resistance, she took direct command over a brigade or two of Apes and conducted the extermination in the dead of the night.

Cynder remembered basking in the suffering of the settlers there. She especially loved it when the dragons fell into the peatlands below, unluckily into deepwater, where they would sink and die slow and agonizing deaths. The two families she manipulated… Yes, she remembered that, too. It was the only time she had done so in the years she served the Dark Master. The dragoness recalled the satisfaction she got at watching the children and adolescents fight each other to the death, not long after disemboweling their parents before them.

It was a brutal massacre, and to her knowledge, there were no survivors. No prisoners of war.

How Kilat could have escaped a surgical operation like that baffled Cynder as much as it relieved her. That she lived was by itself a miracle.

There was no mistaking the enmity in Kilat's voice. The venom she spat was nothing new to Cynder. Rimeer resented the black dragoness as much as the child did, and for sure there were many more people like them living behind the walls of the great city. Living so she could atone for the lives she exterminated, the damage she caused—alone already a joyless endeavor given the ridicule and scorn she receives from the general public—became so much more demoralizing when all the immigrants coming in diluted the number of friendly faces _month after month_.

Glancing at Joshua, Cynder studied his face and found an expression of exasperation and fatigue. He arrived at an impasse. Their friendship and his unconditional love—however short—may have been the tipping point the girl needed to give the furless ape a chance notwithstanding her pristine fear of his power. But Cynder doubted that would be enough to overcome the loathing Kilat must have carried for years.

Then the young man suddenly bared his teeth in a wide and smug grin. She surmised positive emotions _reeking _from this gesture. Happiness. Hope. Relief. A good indication that humanity and dragonkind had a few cultural habits in common.

Now why was he smiling—?

"Oh my God!" His green eyes went skyward. The pupils contracted, as though he zoned out for a moment or two. "They're here! They're _finally_ here!"

"Huh?" Kilat swapped her aggressive posture for confusion.

"It's the Guardians!"

He swept the little girl off all four of her paws before she could do anything. "Meep!" Joshua swung Kilat around and around, dancing like a fool. "Whoaaaa, whoa, waaaahh!"

With a sudden stop, the human brought the disoriented dragon to his face and vigorously nuzzled her yellow snout with apparent cheer. "Oh _Lordy_, things are looking up **at long f*cking last**!"

Her paws batted at her assailant. She tried to repel his advances with her curved horns. "Uh, w-wha—what?" But her efforts, while useless and weak, had no heart behind them in the first place. Had Cynder been looking at Kilat's muzzle, she would have found disbelief at the sheer brazenness of his actions. "I, I-I-I, uhm, you, you can't just—we were arguing—

"_F*ck, that_!" He held the Electric dragon-child by the pits of her forelegs at arm's length. "All those things we were just talking about?" Joshua gesticulated up using those strangely-shaped lips of his. "Ask **them** instead! Kilat, _they_ have the answers you're looking for. _They_ know more about Cynder than I **ever** will. Hell, _they're_ the ones who forgave her in public!"

Any optimism she might have shared did not show on her muzzle. "Eeeeehhhhhhhh…"

Extensive analysis of Kilat's body and tonal language would unearth doubt. A skilled reader of dragons could discern the fear of disappointment in her wings. Her ears. Her tail. Even the oscillations of the light beaming down her entire body.

However good she was at reading people in general, Cynder did not truly specialize on her own species. Neither was she tracking the conversation, for the black dragoness had settled for staring at the human and letting her thoughts stir. How did he know the Guardians were here? Warfang's walls were mammoth. Its strength impenetrable. Nobody could hear squadrons coming from within the city, let alone _specifically identify them_. Not down here, far below the wall.

She trained her gaze up and only found the blue sky. How did Joshua know this? Could he even detect them by some means? Did **that** even make sense? Cynder understood the human possessed an impeccable, natural talent for close-quarters combat. Spyro and Infernus would have easily killed him if he didn't. But that didn't mean he could… that's _impossible_.

He was bluffing.

He _had _to be bluffing.

If the adolescent couldn't pacify Kilat or outright turn her around without retracting the progress he just gained with their relationship, a solid, convincing deception was probably the only way he could get the little girl to stop, to calm down, and—

A wing of comprised of four squadrons zoomed past the top. Cynder's teal eyes recognized Terrador, Volteer, and Cyril at the front. They dilated at the sight. At the way their presence brought a feeling of heaviness upon the sky.

Ancestors. Joshua had not been making it up. He was right all along.

Cynder, in awe, watched the Guardians lead the charge. Carried by explosive velocity, they swerved down the sides. Her insides seesawed at the swiftness of their descent. She ogled the way their wings were tucked in. The stiff tails. The curdled frames.

Oh no.

"Joe-wa," she coughed the boy's name. Her words jumbled out. A vocal mess.

Cynder tried to speak properly. "Josa!" Ancestors damn Rimeer for what he did to her face. "Argh!" It **hurt** to open her mouth a little.

At least she had the human's attention. "Cynder?"

"Joshua, you—

Agony shot through her snout. Terrible pain worked its way across the bones, stunning the older dragoness with hidden jolts of electricity. "Rrrrkk."

Joshua lowered Kilat a bit, though kept carrying her. The child didn't seem to notice. "Cynder, what's wrong?" He watched the Heroine shake off the pain. Cynder placed her own paw on her muzzle, rubbing the soreness on the jawbones, trying to get it in a working position. "Are you okay?"

She ignored him and dared another glance up. Cyril had taken the lead. Seeing the serious glower on _his_ snout obliged her to act before it was too late. Cynder gave Spyro's unconscious body one last, longing stroke with her tail before forcing herself to stand.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey, you shouldn't be doing that!"

"Be-sad me," she struggled. Oh what she would **give **to have a Spirit Gem right now. Cynder spat on the ground and tried one more time. "Get beside me!" her words came out in full.

"W-what're you talking about? The Guardians—

Kilat stared up at the approaching group, her eyes wide open. "Joshua!"

"**What**?" he hissed. "Everything's going to be fine. We can trust the Guardians. They're—

Cyril spat a spherical block of compressed ice down at the same time a younger fire dragon behind him belched a powerful fireball. Cynder recognized the other dragon and the body armor he wore. Another Fellow. Same rank as Rimeer.

Just like before, in some inexplicable, incomprehensible way, Joshua tensed and _finally_ looked up. "THE **F*CK**!"

In split seconds both ice and fire converged at a spot directly between Joshua and the two Saviors, and the Elements exploded viciously. Kilat shrieked, the sheer force of the explosion throwing her off and away from the human. A precision strike intended on upsetting Joshua's balance rather than killing him, done for the sole reason he had a presumably defenseless and hurt child in his arms.

Cynder's legs barely endured the intense vibrations reverberating around her. It threatened to knock her down, but she held strong, evoking great determination to set things straight before the whole cycle of vengeance started anew.

Terrador, Guardian of Earth, crashed into the ground with a loud boom. The very earth trembled in his wake. His stance lower, protective, and ready to move at a moment's notice, he glared at Joshua with the intimidating air of a ruler. A true guardian. A person who would do everything to protect his subjects. The adult dragon's impact was too much for Cynder. What little strength she mustered gave out at once. Again she fell, but this time the ground was not there to meet her broken, disfigured face.

Instead the blades of grass shrunk, shrunk, and shrunk. The gap between her and the ground became farther. Volteer swept down and picked up Spyro. He turned towards Cynder—towards the dragon carrying her. "Cyril! Cynder doesn't look _too_ terrible. A little rejuvenation will mend those broken bones sufficiently!" Cradling the world's hero in both arms, he then carried Spyro up and over the wall before the Ice Guardian could reply with anything beyond an acknowledging grunt.

"Joshua!" From above, Kilat could be seen getting up, snarling at Terrador. He must've been a gigantic green dragon to her. "Hey, **you**! Get away from him. He's _mine_!"

Another dragon swooped in from above, her body as lean, as aerodynamic as the Heroine herself. Cynder watched her descend at greater speeds than she normally expected from the typical dragon. She snatched Kilat from the air, seizing the child's nape with the grace and fluidity of someone who had decades of experience, as though she'd been a mother all her life. The Wind itself roared at a single flap of her powerful, oversized wings.

"Ancestors, no! I can't leave Joshua!" Kilat clawed and screamed anxiously, violently, at her supposed rescuer. A profound disquiet dominated her rapid flailing, and the alarming intensity of her fighting demonstrated how much she worried for someone she still feared could kill her by complete accident. "Let go. Let goooooo!"

The female dragon shot past Cynder's eyes, past the other dragons. Her lustrous scales glinted with the pale, pinkish hues commonly found on seashells strewn across the nearby Breeze Harbor—a stark contrast to almost every dragon in the air.

A Wind Dragon.

One of the immigrants from Cloud Spires.

Cynder watched her spiral upwards, moving as if she owned the skies. She circled faster and faster, fully intending to disorient the child clutched in her forepaw. The black dragoness recognized the deeper, orchid tones of her underbelly and the impressive control over an Element as volatile and as malleable as the Wind itself. _Skydancer. What is _she _doing here?_

Cyril's genteel voice interrupted Cynder before she could process this. "Cynder, are you alright?"

The scene below her featured an astonished Joshua desperately pleading with Terrador. He had his arms clasped together, begging for mercy. Cynder imagined the "I'm not your enemy" speech coming out of him, trying to explain everything that had happened to the new actor in this situation.

Multiple squadrons hovered above them. About twelve dragons waited for Terrador's signal, their ranks split evenly between Fellows and Apprentices. Their shocked, livid murmurs wafted up her earholes. Aware this escalation merely repeated what took place minutes ago, she blocked them all out and instead sought out Sparx. He was the only other person who knew the truth.

Where was he? Wasn't he going to help?

"S, Sparx," she croaked. "Where's, Spa—ack!" Cynder put a paw to her snout again, unable to say a word.

"Fret not, Cynder," Cyril said. "I found some healing crystals. You will regain your ability to speak once you're done with them." He began a descent. "Terrador had the dragonfly remain at the Temple so he could round up Warfang's best medical specialists and provide immediate treatment for Spyro's internal bleeding. Of course, the same goes for everyone else that _repulsive ape _hurt.

"He made the right choice, I'll be honest," he continued. "Sparx had gone **hysterical**. Even Volteer couldn't keep up with him."

Cynder tuned out Cyril's "professional" assessment. She focused on Joshua, who _definitely _got his wish of meeting the Guardians. The colossal disappointment was palpable on his face; right now, he looked like he traveled for days in the harsh, barren desert towards a large oasis in the distance and discovered an empty, lifeless mirage in its place.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Terrador spoke, his voice a deep and intimidating rumble. "We intercepted survivors from Rimeer's and Infernus's Wings and they told us a different story."

"What!" Joshua exclaimed. "No! No, no, no, no. You **can't** believe them! I don't have _anything _against you guys. This wasn't my fault! Rimeer tried to kill Cynder, and Infernus turned Spyro against me. F*ck, I only wanted to talk!"

"Enough of your lies," declared Terrador. "It does not matter if you are a subordinate of Caesar, an agent of the Dark Master, or a mere traveler. You **knowingly** put our Heroes to a state of near-death and murdered many who tried to help him and the _innocent child_ you deluded."

"Terrador! Please, listen to me," the human entreated, his cheeks shining from the tears dripping out his eyes. He fell on all fours and put his head on the ground. The act bewildered Cynder—it was so foreign, unusual—but she figured it was a gesture of extreme contrition. "I **beg** you. Talk to Sparx. Talk to Cynder! Bring Kilat back here! **I** **promise you**, they can speak for me! I'm not who you think I am—

"We are done, Joshua Renalia," The Earth Guardian snubbed him. He leaped high into the air and flew off, soaring higher than all the other dragons in the sky. Then Terrador opened his maw, launching three glowing spheres of his Element airborne.

It was the signal to attack.

Every single dragon moved on cue.

Joshua stood, gaping at the scene above. Stupor ensnared the human, and from the way he quaked, he buckled before several dragons rushing in to expunge him from the Dragon Realms, Cynder conjectured the shock—the trauma of seeing the people he truly believed would bring his ordeal to a peaceful end _betray those_ expectations, petrified him. And he now lived in denial.

A fireball exploded near him. The force sent him flying, forcibly knocking some sense back into his head. He picked himself up, but before he could get on his feet, two of Cyril's Ice Dragons sent icicles towards his neck while one of the dragons under Volteer's tutelage clad himself in a blanket of electricity and flanked him from the side.

Joshua brought his hand up to stop the icicles, and **failed** to do so. "Goddammit, f*ck!"

He moved at the last minute. One of the icicles impaled his shoulder, while the other shattered as soon as it struck his chest. The Ice Dragon that could have won the glory of killing the furless ape grimaced, probably swearing to ramp up his training when he returned to the Temple. The human ogled the Electric dragon coming for him, staring the way prey animals did in the forests around Warfang, seconds before death claimed them.

Joshua turned away from the sight of his immediate demise, raised his hand, and _screamed_.

"Oh!" Cyril said, apparently not paying attention to the battle. "Here we are." One bash from his claw and several Spirit Gems cascaded down to the ground, free for the taking. "Okay, Cynder. Start taking these and I'll hold on to your jaw so your mouth could heal right."

Once the Ice Guardian set her down, the Savior did as instructed. She felt Cyril put his forepaw atop of Cynder's snout and pressed hard. Not enough to crush, but enough to pin it down. The dragoness clutched the red crystals and held tight, allowing the rush of warmth to burst throughout her body and begin a healing process that _should_ have been accessible to only dragons.

Afraid of possibly delaying the process, Cynder stifled her screams and forced herself still. The effort was mostly futile, for the feeling of her crushed jaw settling back into position and magically repairing all damage caused her to writhe, hiss, and growl. She clawed at Cyril's massive forepaw. She bit a rock, clamping down with so much force it began to shatter between her teeth. "ARRRGH!"

As the seconds passed, as the fighting continued in the background, Cynder felt strength finally returning to her. Her hearing, her eyesight, her olfaction all clawed back the infirmity Joshua's White Breath inflicted upon them. "Terrible," Cyril remarked when the Heroine snatched the sixth Spirit Gem from the pile. "Simply _terrible_. I can_not _believe that barbarian would do this to one of the greatest heroes in our city." He grunted. "Hmph, I am even surprised an ape _that small_ has the strength to do this to you."

"It wasn't him," Cynder replied.

"W-what?"

"You heard me. It wasn't Joshua. **Rimeer** did this to me."

"...Preposterous! He swore loyalty to you—to _us _when we inducted him as an Apprentice. No respectable dragon would—

"Infernus _discredited me _in front of Spyro." She grabbed another Spirit Gem. Just a few more and she would have healed enough to intervene on Joshua's behalf and fight if she had to. "A **Guardian Candidate** who even overlooked several attempts at my life by the other guards."

Rendered speechless, the Ice Guardian had no prepared reply for her. Cynder glowered at Cyril as the crystal faded to gray in her claws. "Eh, e-e, e-even so, the furless ape still slaughtered—

Blinding light flashed their surroundings before Cynder could persuade Cyril to switch sides. The two turned their heads back to the fighting and saw two dragons down. They were still alive, but their wings and legs twitched as though they couldn't move them. Joshua, however, was in worse shape. He had one hand over the side of his abdomen, where bright-red blood gushed despite his best efforts.

"I apologize, Cynder," Cyril said. "But they need my assistance! We shall discuss this later!" He galloped to the battle and took to the sky, spiraling in the air until a frigid twister formed around his body. Hailstones the size of moles flew in Joshua's direction. The human recoiled at the spectacle of a Guardian putting his full power into an intermediate-level attack. More dragons attacked from at least two other directions.

Joshua Renalia prioritized the battery of elements coming for him. He made **multiple** attempts to manipulate any of the four Elements, but Cynder noticed he **never** got it to work. **Not once**. Miraculously, the human managed to at least bring up the white shield and stave off a blanket of fire, letting it backfire into some attacks and one Earth dragon rushing straight for him. Yet this opened him up to other angles. An opportunistic fighter snuck in an Electric Orb from the side and forced it to his face. Joshua tried to manipulate it several times and failed just as much.

At point blank, the human shrieked from panic and swatted the thing away with his bare hands. It flew in Cyril's direction and detonated in the air. The attack halted the Ice Guardian's deadly approach. "What **magic **is this ape using?" clamored Cyril. "Impossible!"

Another one of the pale-colored Wind Dragons landed in front of Joshua—an actual immigrant, _not_ Skydancer—and unleashed a blast of air at him. It smacked straight into Joshua and sent him tumbling down one of the hills, where a tiny red spike stood. He fragmented the crystal and held the shards for dear life, but to his dismay, it did nothing except staunch the profuse bleeding from his side, and Cynder knew a mortal wound like that _can_ reopen again. "Oh God, no."

The Wind Dragon screeched and used his Element to spring towards him, rushing past every dragon in his path. Joshua observed this and deduced the intent to literally eviscerate him in half. Running or even evasion was not an option; there was no "fleeing" a dragon that thrived on speed and agility.

"Get away!" he said, lashing out his arms at the oncoming beast. "Get away!" He whipped it out again and again, as though expecting something to come out. "Get away—get—get—get the f*ck—

A sphere of light appeared out of _nothing_ and a beam raced out to intercept the approaching destroyer. The latter contorted and, with another burst of wind, _accelerated_ towards the human at an even greater speed. "OH F*CK! F*CK! F*CK! F****CK!"

Two more spheres of light. Two more _lasers_, and they proved to be one too many for the Wind Dragon to elude at a close distance. Joshua's frantic attempt at surviving this particular dragon struck his target true—right in the shoulder. Yet, unlike earlier, when trees withered and people swelled up and died, Joshua's opponent simply lost control of his wing and right arm and shortly careened into the ground.

But not before using the last of his momentum to make one last charge with his body, tail whipping out at the young man. Horns pierced the human's chest; as Joshua flew backward, the tail blade landed a clean cut on the left shoulder. His corresponding arm instantly went slack.

The human, for all his cursing, for all the vigor he put into this one-sided fight, could only kneel. For all intents and purposes, his left arm had been permanently disabled. His other hand pressed into the painful, open gash on his side, preventing his intestines and kidneys from falling through. Joshua wheezed with every breath, and he spat blood out every few seconds.

Cyril yelled to the other dragons. "Great work, all of you! This _filth_ is all but spent and we haven't had a single casualty among our elite number. One more charge and we shall overwhelm the furless ape and _eradicate_ him."

Terrador did nothing. In fact, he said nothing, remaining content to watch the execution from the air. A leader who had complete trust in his delegates, and likewise.

"I'm done," Cynder's remarkable hearing heard Joshua speak, grumble through the pain, the tears, the utter disappointment. "I'm done. I am absolutely, f*cking done."

"Go!" the Ice Guardian commanded.

"You heard him!"

"Go, go, go!"

"Let's show this _murderer _what happens when you mess with Warfang!"

A yellow beam intersected the squadrons' advance and cut them off. "Stop! Stop it!" Kilat shouted from the ramparts, the Electric child a tiny speck on the wall. Skydancer was slumped behind her, obviously unconscious. "Please," the dragoness begged, her eyes cast across the scene. "Don't kill him! **Please**! He, h-he's telling the truth! Really!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears; the dragons resumed their attack.

"Ancestors, why doesn't anyone f*cking **listen**?" the child yelled, exasperated. Kilat collected another obscene amount of mana in her mouth, pooling her natural element into the attack as though the _Zap Cannon_ was a mere _Electric Orb_.

"Look out!"

"Disperse!"

Terrador decided to act. He nosedived towards Kilat, seconds before she released her second _Zap Cannon_ into the Wings. The Guardian of Earth, his body irradiating mana, conjured solid bedrock of immense mass around his body and dropped, straight into the rod of plasma and electricity surging from the child's mouth. It absorbed the entire attack, not letting a single bit of it leach into the atmosphere and land on any of the assailing dragons. Terrador singlehandedly demonstrated, before many, that the intensity and raw power of a natural prodigy would never overcome the skill, training, and conditioning of a full-fledged Guardian.

The attack went on unabated. A cacophony of flapping wings, bestial snarls, and calls for the furless ape's messy evisceration accompanied the various dragons headed in the teenager's direction. Joshua Renalia, who never heard anything, who no longer cared about the fight, slumped in complete defeat. "I can't do this anymore," he said to himself. "I can't. I, I **can't**." He began to cry.

Cynder stretched, feeling her strength return in full. She discarded the last of the Spirit Gems and flexed her wings. Before she could take off, Volteer landed in front of her, obstructing her path. "Do not worry, Cynder. We have everything under control."

Under control? How can Volteer claim they had it **under control**? She was incredulous. Couldn't he see the white wisps circulating around Joshua? The white glow his body began to emanate?

"Volteer, I don't have time. I need to stop this mess."

"I will _admit_, my intellectual curiosity wants him to live. That _power_ he possesses. Why, it shows all signs of being an Element! What he's done with it so far is _amazing_," concluded the scholar. "Temporary deprivation of motor functions. Obstruction of the other Elements. Unparalleled versatility in form and function, from focused attacks to crowd control. I've never seen anything like it. Not in my entire career. My entire _life. _Extraordinary. Simply, extraordinary..."

She twisted to the side to bypass the Guardian, but the rambling old coot _blocked _her path. "Out of the way, Volteer!"

"An Element we've never seen, never _studied_! It carries neither the same 'fire' as Spyro's Elements, nor the 'weight' that grounds yours. It feels like somewhere in between." Volteer turned towards Joshua, who balled up on the ground and waited for certain death.

_He's distracted!_ Cynder flapped her wings twice and galloped around the Guardian of Electricity. She picked up speed. Picked up momentum. She readied her wings for flight and…

…tripped on Volteer's paw. Cynder snarled at the Guardian, who graced her with a sad smile. "It feels like _Convexity_," he said. "I am sorry, Cynder. We do not know what the Unknown Element is truly capable of. I cannot hurt you, but as a Guardian, I **cannot** let you stop this. Joshua is far too dangerous."

Cynder checked on Joshua again. Fear, urgency spiked through her liver when she saw the pallid wisps combine into something that looked like a cross between clouds and energy. It swirled around Joshua Renalia, draining all life within it as the mass lifted him into the air.

"God, please end this f*cking nightmare," She heard the young man weep. "Just let it end, _quick_. I don't give a f*ck anymore."

The Guardians' squadrons of Fellows and Senior Apprentices launched elemental attacks at the adolescent. Even when they aimed at what looked like an unprotected zone, their projectile were immediately converted into the same white energy coalescing around the human the second it entered within a certain range.

A Fire Dragoness challenged Joshua, coating her orange scales in blue fire and performing the _Comet Dash. _The student aborted the attack when she came close. While her flames were assimilated into the white plumes, her body shuddered before she veered off to the side and crashed away from him, where she wriggled and thrashed the way Cynder did when she lost all her senses.

"Nobody ever listens. This crazy _bullshit_ keeps happening over and over again. It's never going to stop."

Everything around Joshua's curled body literally began to wobble. The space itself shuddered, _quaked _as more and more of the white mass collected around him. "Jesus Christ, I beg you, **end this**. I don't want to deal with it anymore. I want to go home."

The sound of glass shattering filled Cynder's ears, followed by a frightening _thworp_. Both Volteer and the black dragoness stared up at Joshua's floating body. To their horror, several spherical holes appeared near the human, on the fringes of the white mass. All the size of dragon eggs. _A Fury. He's forming a Fury!_

"Ancestors help us all!" Volteer exclaimed, caught utterly off-guard. "T-this is ca, catastrophic…!"

Cynder saw the swirling kaleidoscope of energy within each one for a split second before it leaked out and dispersed into the world.

As a purple haze.

As Convexity.

"I just want to go f*cking home…"

* * *

**Author's Notes**:

One more chapter to go! One more and it is **over**!

All right, so… reader feedback!

Again, I can't respond to everyone because I don't want this to be too long, but I'd like to thank you—every single one of you—and *sigh* yes, even the guests who don't bother identifying themselves or logging in to their FFN accounts—for all your reviews, comments, and support. Criticism and encouragement are both highly welcome, and I hope to live up to your expectations or even inspire new writers among you.

Djax80, good to see you once again and thank you for your review. Heh, the good ol' template plot. I have plans for that one. I'll be playing the long game on it though, so don't expect any Trope Breaking on that 'til much later. And unfortunately I'll have to agree with you. The clichés are there, but they're there because I either have conceded to their usage or plan to play with it at some point. Take your pick. :P

GhostChris, thanks for your comment! But you're sad to see the rollercoaster end? I'd revise those expectations if I were you. The Gates of Warfang arc is just the beginning. Just because I'm putting a stop to a heavy, combat-oriented arc to a character-driven, slice-of-life style doesn't mean there will be an utter lack of emotional turmoil. On the contrary, there will be. **Plus **with the other characters now in the picture, I can take extended breaks from using Joshua as a POV and throw in mini-arcs or mega-arcs, the way TokoWH's _Spyro Loops _operates.

Keyblader Zen, great seeing you again. Let's see… On #1, Joshua's outburst in Cynder's defense was only directed to Rimeer's followers. It wouldn't positively affect her overall rep in the city, and with her approval rating _rapidly being diluted _by the large number of war-traumatized immigrants pouring in, I daresay it may even backfire despite public backing by the Guardians and her relationship with Spyro. (Only God knows if that will happen—with all my focus on making it to the end of this story arc, I haven't had the chance to seriously consider the consequences yet!) On #2, a "respect up" from Spyro? That's probable, if not guaranteed. Still, she'll be seeing a medical specialist about her disfiguration after this bullshit at the Eastern Gates comes to an end. The most I think she'll have is a scar. An ugly and _very _noticeable scar. Last, on #3. You wouldn't be wrong to assume that…

Koal, what are you talking about? Joshua's **always** going to be in a hellhole. Doesn't mean he won't have his happy moments or people are going to try to kill him all the time but… the entire Dragon Realms **will **behell for him either way. XD It already started after Kilat utterly demolished his sense of personal hygiene.

Sol1234, hmmm… a civil war? That **might** have happened if Warfang was populated solely by dragonkind. But as it stands, Warfang is a fortress city with a high degree of sentient biodiversity, with the dragons being a minority. Albeit, a rapidly growing minority, all of whom have superpowers and the ability to fly. Heavy immigration for a city that's still recovering from the war with Malefor _and_ brutal hostility by the rising power that is Aldozira (The City of Apes) all lead to… an interesting socioeconomic structure.

Maga016, thank you for your comment! And a rare one too, about my writing style. Again, much appreciated. This immersive style that tactically fluctuates between introspection and emotive impact, with scattered descriptions took years of work to get to, with my _Digimon_ deconstruction fic being my starting point. BTW, were you one of those guests before? I swear I saw your name somewhere before…


	19. A Child's Fury

**Author's Note:**

I'd like to thank **TokoWH** for being my beta in this chapter. While he didn't really do any direct editing, he was able to point out areas of improvement with regards to my writing style and portrayal of the canon characters (specifically the words they use).

Anyway, last chapter in the story arc… and it's ANOTHER LONG ONE! Clocked in at 16K! OTL OTL OTL Damn it! I was really aiming for 8K in this one! Sorry, guys... I'll try to make it shorter next time.

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**Chapter 19: A Child's Fury**

"_Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different."_

\- Oprah Winfrey

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Kilat watched the aged dragon take on her attack behind an armor of rocks and boulders. The potent stream of lightning dispersed harmlessly when they hit. She never expected her strongest attack to be repelled so easily, and by an old reptile to boot.

She gnarled. This Treedoor or whatever those stupid Warfang people called him must be **that** good if he reacted _that_ fast. Chances were he possessed much more experience and skill than that weird, ugly, unnaturally whitish dragon earlier. Kilat would not get another chance to shoot at the other dragons. Not with the snot-green brute in the way.

Maybe she shouldn't have bothered with that warning shot the first time around? She _had_ both the complete element of surprise and a wide area of effect. Ancestors… if she had only went with that instead of _being nice_, those dragons would have—hmm… no. She couldn't have done that; Joshua would've been angry with her.

So now what? Treedoor was far above her level. Unbeatable one-on-one. _Especially _when he **also** had the flight advantage. Her amputated wing ensured there was no way she could fight evenly. She grimaced. _This is going to be tough..._

She saw Joshua slump. He crumpled in on his knees, staring down at the ground. Did he give up? Did he, did he just resign himself to his death? Like all those people wanted?

Memories struck the moment her cobalt sight saw this surrender. They brought an understanding that harked back to the time they met. It echoed her own, pathetic capitulation, when, at the hour of her greatest despair, the Ancestors rewarded her not with starvation, not with a quick death, but with a person who had a good heart, the determination to see her live, and the willingness to look after a burden. A young, energetic child like her.

Kilat scolded herself. She couldn't just give up now. She couldn't leave Joshua again, not around people who wanted to kill him just because of someone else's lies or biases. To get to him, she had to be stronger. She had to be faster. She had to do **whatever** it took.

Eyeing the dragons flying—hovering just beneath the wall, a plan popped into her mind. A crazy, insane plan only a child and her unchecked imagination could seriously entertain. Thinking what she needed to do bothered her, but she swallowed her unease. She shut out—she _purged_ the seeds of doubt leeching away her confidence and took a few deep breaths to get ready.

_Mom always said Ancestors bless no regrets._

Then Kilat did the unthinkable. Armed with the unforgettable proverbs of her mother, she called upon her energy, her mana. The energy culminated into a violent, torrid buzzing in her mouth. She fought the urge to open her snout and spit it out, like the few times she had performed this attack before. She took control of this energy and sent it into her center before pushing it—_forcing _it all out. Multiple vents beneath her scales went flush with electricity, fueled by her own mana.

When her golden scales were enveloped in a shimmering, crackling yellow, she moved.

She dashed.

Kilat hopped on the concrete rail and, oh Ancestors, how she **pushed**! Putting her all into this one daring move, the little girl leaped into the air and soared far. _Far_, despite her inability to fly. She arced towards the mighty, mean dragon and brought her horns down on his chest as the armor of boulders began dropping from his body.

Treedoor's eyes dilated at her unexpected approach. "This persistent _child_—OOF!"

A combination of Kilat's kinetic energy and the power she exuded in this _Volt Tackle_ dropped the so-called Guardian. He lurched steeply, plummeting at least forty feet down while twitching, unable to right himself in time.

"Terrador!" hollered a nearby dragon. He flapped his wings with a most vicious ferocity and _accelerated_ to them, in hopes of rendering swift, effective assistance for his superior. His teacher. His mentor. "Damn it, you little girl. We're trying to—!"

He ended up helping the wrong dragon instead.

There could be no better proof for the keenness of Kilat's eyes than the speed at which she saw the opportunity present itself to her. Tension hardened the claws clenching down Treedoor's hazel scales, split seconds before the little girl proved beyond a reasonable doubt just how hard, how difficult it was to catch a nimble, hyperactive child driven on accomplishing an imperative that could neither be ignored nor passed over.

The prodigy shot a bolt of lightning at the newcomer. His jaw dropped at its surprising speed. Several times faster than what was normal for a dragoness her age, the lightning bolt struck the older dragon before he could even _think _of moving out of the way. The smoke blocked out his vision for a few seconds and bought Kilat time. Precious time.

Time she exploited to their maximum. The little girl kept her mind blank—pushing away the voices of her regrets, her doubts—and leaped off of the old lizard's body instants before his claws lunged to restrain her. Electricity darted around her fangs. Kilat showed no hesitation when she ferociously bit down on the other dragon's wing and, as he flinched, used her last remaining amount of mana to channel her Element straight into his body.

"A-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh!" Unable to fly or move, gravity pulled them down hard, losing altitude faster than Treedor did.

He flailed around. An attempt to throw the little girl off or slacken her jaw. "Off—! Get—

And it accomplished nothing.

Kilat saw the ground coming. Very quickly, the dragoness relinquished the battered dragon's scales and left behind a bleeding imprint of her teeth. Then she kicked off of her impromptu assistant, jumped down the last ten feet between her and the grass, and rolled upon landing.

_Thwooooorp_.

"Ancestors help us all!" cried yet another old dragon. Yellow and blue scales. Electric Element. Must be this 'Volteer' Joshua mentioned before. "T-this is ca, catastrophic! Calamitous! Utterly devastating!"

The vixens of Mungo Volpe tended to wail the same way whenever they woke up with their fur all knotted up. Rumpled, dry, and coated in the gross sheen of their own saliva—dragon spit could do _so_ _much_ better than that; she would know. Volteer's exclamations rang in Kilat's ears no differently from those foxes and their insufferable obsession with fur.

_Ancestors, what now?_ She rose on all paws and, driven by a mix of curiosity and worry, eyeballed Joshua. Her mouth quivered, threatening to break open at the sight of her hoo-man **floating in the air**, his body swathed in an ominous, pallid white. Even the Terror of the Skies, her most detested enemy, froze before the sight.

Volteer continued to babble in blind panic. "…no sense. This makes no sense! Convexity isn't supposed to—only the Purple Dragon—my observations of the Unknown Element suggest zero correlation, nonexistent linkages—

"Get a hold of yourself, Volteer!" Kilat glanced up and saw the aged Ice Dragon—the third Guardian—hovering above. He glared down at the Electric Guardian, scowling in distaste. "We are among the **best** Warfang has to offer: a continued tradition spanning centuries of rich history!"

His peer eyed the holes in the world and the purple haze they leaked, but didn't dare turn away from Cynder and risk her intervention. Volteer remained unconvinced, his worries still showing in his shivering eyes and the constant twitching of his lips. "Cyril, the Unknown Element has brought Convexity upon us! **Convexity**! This situation warrants much caution, else we risk—

"Do not give in to intimidation. We must—we **will** stay strong and put the furless ape **down **before he can do anything with it!"

"Can't you be stubborn later—

Cyril ignored him and drowned out Volteer's warnings with a fierce roar. "Release your Furies!" he ordered. "Show what it means to be Warfang's first generation of dragons! Show your pride and—

"Suck an egg!" Kilat yelled.

A well-placed thunderbolt struck the Ice Guardian before he could finish his quick words of encouragement. He dropped, prompting a few of the other dragons to go straight for his position and cushion the fall. "Cyril!"

Kilat grimaced at the thought of this city's finest murdering her older brother in cold blood. She couldn't shake off the memory of that mean, green Guardian dismissing Joshua's words and instead concentrating on the body count. Never mind the fact **their people** started all this in the first place. Sentenced to death for something he never meant to do? To avenge those who fell to his desperate attempts to defend himself?

Kilat observed this crisis no differently from her encounter with that terrifying Ape with the hoo-man-like face and his minions, back at the forests. They had no reason to attack their small group. No reason to ambush them, to murder them, if not drag them back to some city for a life of torture and pain. Yet they did. Despite all reason, they did, only because of the sole fact the Apes scorned—the Apes as an entire species _detested_ Dragons.

Warfang's trauma from the war with Malefor and the Apes and its residual hatred zeroed in on Joshua with identical ferocity and mercilessness. It didn't matter who he was or what he did. The City of Dragons only needed someone to blame, some new threat to aim at. That Joshua looked like one of the new Apes made him even more of a target. Kilat felt this was unfair—too unjust—and with that thought she did the one thing she knew best and broke into a frantic sprint before the Guardians or their followers noticed she was back.

Cobalt eyes trained only on her adolescent caretaker, the little girl read resignation and apathy in his body language. Her neck creaked as she shrugged off the temptation to stare at the spheres hovering in the space around Joshua, bleeding that strange, purple matter, and distorting the world in their wake. Had she looked, she would have been mesmerized by the deep, endless prism of color swirling within. Had she scrutinized this chaotic light, she might have seen images flickering within.

Glimpses of the impossible.

Kilat stopped. Her determination faltered at the white, nebulous mass surrounding the teenager. She whimpered upon recalling all the corpses that surrounded them, her hoo-man at the very center of it all. She wanted to go on, to push onward, yet Joshua's Element drew out this irrational fear from her. Every time she tried to take another step, she heard the clamor of her heartbeats and felt an inexplicable pressure pushing her back. Was she imagining things?

"Step back, child! It's dangerous there!" Kilat twisted her head and saw Treedor glaring down at her from the air. She read irritation and… concern on his snout. The Guardian nudged his humongous head and pointed to the Fire dragoness squirming in the grass like a weak, newborn hatchling. "If you go any closer, you'll end up like her, or worse!"

"But, b-but…!" Kilat glanced back at Joshua. "Ancestors, no. Joshua, J-Joshua won't…"

Cyril touched down away from her, looking at her in the eye. "Listen to Terrador," he said, his voice devoid of the burning passion that colored his speech. "Listen to us: _your elders_. I understand the furless ape showed you kindness once, but look. Look what he's doing now. Look how he's disrupting the world around him _as we speak_."

She couldn't afford to look, when three younger dragons were keen on flanking her from the sides, a little bit out of sight.

"The rich traditions of generations past attest to the belligerence of the Apes, the dangers they present to us all. Your life is precious, tiny wing. Don't throw your life away for a worthless good-for-nothing that will only kill you in the end."

She didn't _need_ to look, because Joshua once saved her life with that power.

"You don't know what you're talking about, you old lizard." Rebelliously, Kilat stuck her tongue out at him for added measure.

The Ice Guardian balked at the shot to his pride. Reeling from the blow, he growled at a dragoness centuries his junior. "This rude, little—! Insult my pedigree one more time, and I'll…"

Kilat wrenched her muzzle back towards Joshua Renalia. For a split-second, she saw only the sadness—the defeat—the _disappointment_ written on his face. Unable to believe the two Guardians, unconvinced of their apparent wisdom and judgment, the young dragoness decided she was scared of losing the only person she could count on **more** than she was scared of dying. "You got it wrong."

She forced herself to charge in Joshua's direction. "You got it all wrong!" Forced herself to ignore every impulse—every instinct in her body urging her to stop, to cease and desist.

The three that had been inching closer and closer lunged the instant she moved. Kilat shrieked at their agility. They easily overwhelmed the dragoness. Quickly she reacted not with an Electric attack but by twisting, squirming her body. She darted around their every attempt to grab hold of her, and she met success only because of her diminutive size.

"Get back here!" Cyril shouted at her as she ran. A second later he addressed the others near him. "By the Ancestors, stop her! Someone stop that **stupid** **monoscale** before she kills herself!"

An Earth Dragon called on his power to upset the earth beneath the little girl's paws. The ground shuddered, increasing in violence and intensity, yet Kilat, from the sensations alone, discerned the lack of power—the lack of ferocity in the energy disturbing the land. That they refused to hurt her, a child, vexed her, when they refused to acknowledge her words.

Her paw almost fell into a crevice; she stumbled, yet she pressed on, quick to spit a lightning bolt at some random direction behind her. The excessive power of her attacks, now known to the others, caused her pursuers to hesitate and step back, giving Kilat more room to close in on Joshua.

"Please stop!" cried an Ice Dragon, noticeably smaller, younger, and _faster _than the others around the Guardian. One of Cyril's students, she figured. "You don't know what you're—

She looked back and blew a raspberry out of spite, almost missing the scowl on the drake's muzzle. Kilat never noticed him cock his head back and unleash clouds of ice and snow at her tail, intending to deaden her limbs and render her immobile.

It was too late.

The Ice Breath touched the fringes of the dead space around Joshua and dispersed harmlessly before Kilat felt the air freeze, arresting every dragon other than the little girl herself. She did not even realize she had gone far beyond the point of no return until she realized the world became silent.

Dark.

**Gone**.

She heard nothing. She saw nothing. She _smelled _nothing. Even the ground beneath her ceased to exist, and yet she ran. She _believed _she still ran, swearing to the Ancestors that she was still running, still putting one foot in front of another. She believed with every drop of her blood, every bit of her strength, that she was closing in on her beloved hoo-man "brother", even when the Dragon Realms was no longer there to prove it.

_But…_

Kilat pushed it away.

_There's nothing._

Kilat pushed it away.

_Left, right, up, down, forward, backward. There's…_

Kilat **pushed** it away.

She took a deep breath—she _thought_ she—

_THERE'S NOTHING!_

No. Joshua wouldn't kill her. Joshua couldn't—he _wouldn't_ do this to her. He wouldn't take her life back. There was no way he would!

So Kilat pushed it away.

This time, **it pushed back**.

This nagging doubt grabbed the little girl. It spread itself all over, and never released her, subjecting her to an emotion she couldn't describe with words.

Kilat whimpered.

Kilat screamed.

She called for Joshua. Yelled his name to the darkness enveloping her, desperate to deny reality. But despite all her efforts, an absolute silence only awaited her. Her struggling gave birth to a stillness that wouldn't go away. An eternity of **nothing**.

She was…

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She was dead.

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The world reappeared.

A violent burbling noise pulled Kilat out of the nothingness, drawing her attention to the whirlpool of color directly in front of her. A glowing haze illuminated her sight purple and…

The sphere _pulsed_, resurrecting thoughts of death.

Kilat bolted upright from a fetal position. With vigor, she backed away from the deadly sphere and the distorted energies within. The dragoness gasped, almost screeching at how close she had been to touching it. It carried the odor of various metals being welded together, and Ancestors, how the air felt…

How the air, the ground—how it all **felt**.

"I, I'm alive?"

She took stock of everything around her. Voraciously, she marveled at the natural beauty of the Dragon Realms, overlooking all the blemishes—all the corpses on the ground—all the flabbergasted dragons ogling her in utter shock—for the sole reason that she was **back**.

"I'm alive!" Hearing her own voice… a smile broke out on her snout; a relieved laugh followed it.

Kilat stood well within the translucent, white mass. It rolled around her, and for some bizarre reason, she swore she discerned life in its movement. Her intuitive aptitude for emotions—common in most species of the Realms—pointed to something akin to _concern_ and _guilt_ in its ebbs and flows. Kilat did not know how she knew this; in fact, she would _never_ be able to explain it.

But any thoughts of figuring out what in the Ancestors' name just happened shifted right back to Joshua as soon as the child realized how close she was to him. From this distance, there was no mistaking the dejection infusing his posture. The way he hunched his back over and embraced both his feet and his deadened arm, curling in as much as he could. Joshua **had** truly given up on everything, and from the looks of it, he'd sooner choose the oblivion Kilat just miraculously survived over the constant struggle that was life.

"Joshua!" she cried. Kilat sprinted the last few steps, around those horrific spheres—those _growing_ spheres—and leaped right onto him. "_Joshua_!"

He stammered. "Ki-Kilat?" Astonished to discover her here, clinging to him, the adolescent ogled her like she wasn't real. His mouth made unintelligible blurbs. Words literally failed him, and after a few seconds of trying, he could only manage a weak and incredulous croak. "You're… you're here."

Had, had he been expecting someone to kill him? _All this time?_

The notion horrified the little girl. She stared back at him, at Joshua's haunted eyes. Seeing it compelled Kilat to respond with neither naïve platitudes nor placating gestures. She set her forepaws down, nuzzled his cheek once—twice—before resting her snout on the crook of his neck. She said nothing and let the gesture speak for itself. It's the least she could do, for everything he's ever done for her.

He stiffened at the motion. And when the unspoken message finally settled on his shoulders, he crumpled. Joshua Renalia wrapped his good arm around the innocent girl and tucked his head behind her curved horns. Then he wept.

Kilat's gaze panned across the field. She eyed the Guardians worriedly. What kind of leaders were they, to assume they had all the facts available? To quickly judge someone with execution? To kill an innocent over something he had no control over?

_What will happen now?_ Were the Guardians going to decide to kill her too? Kilat traced the grim expression that snotty Treedor wore on his snout. His eyes had narrowed. The frown on his muzzle was deepening. What was he planning? Was he seriously considering to follow through with Joshua's death sentence, even with a little girl in the crossfire?

But the thought of her death did not bother her so much. Not anymore. Even though she just threw away her only chance at finding out for herself what attracted Explodon and his friends to Warfang, who her family had been, and if she still had surviving relatives, Kilat did not feel the tug of regret on her heartstrings. Even if the Ancestors rewound time and presented the choice to her again, she would not abandon her hoo-man brother. She'd rather die together with him, if only because she didn't want him to go meet his "Christ" god alone.

A distressed sound from Volteer's direction drew the Kilat's attention to a growing pool of darkness spread underneath him. The evil demoness burst from it with a nightmarish snarl, her paw thumping the Guardian's exposed belly. The elder dragon collapsed; as soon as she confirmed her opponent was down, Cynder fanned her wings out and took off before Volteer recovered.

With unparalleled speed the Terror of the Skies flew over Joshua and Kilat. The child tracked her, seeing every bit the incorrigible monster who massacred her family and friends. She watched her soar, keeping away from the Unknown Element's dead space with nothing more than mere guesswork of its range. Globs of poison rained down, but instead of assailing Kilat and her brother—as she expected—they demarcated a glowing green line on the grass that separated the two from all the other dragons.

"This stops **now**!" she snarled. Cynder smashed into the ground and flared her wings. A crimson wave assailed the other dragons. "Take one step past that line and I will ground you myself!"

Several growled in reply to her announcement. Others took a few steps towards her; those who were airborne looked like they were about to dive at her. All had their eyes in Joshua and Kilat's direction, and it would've been easy for anyone to conjecture their thirst for vengeance exceeded their common sense. In any other time, anyone would think twice of crossing one of the so-called Saviors.

Cynder reaffirmed, "Don't even _think_ of testing me!" She roared _louder_. Emerald spheres glared at each and every one of them. "Attack Joshua again and"—black wisps irradiated from her wings.—"Ancestors help me, you'll be spending _the next week_ with the healers when I'm **done**."

With a clear threat from the young adult, the dragons ceased their advance. Several of them backed away, while a few stood in place, either glaring at the supposedly rehabilitated monster or ogling her in astonishment.

Confusion beleaguered the little girl.

Cynder just _helped_ them. She _publicly _declared it. Everyone else standing before her became a potential enemy, and she viewed them as such. The little girl could see it in the dragoness' aggressive posture, in the stern words, and in the brazen display of her power. The Terror of the Skies was no longer the weakened dragoness Kilat saw when she awoke, bloodied and huddling desperately beside the dying Purple Dragon. She seemed ready to fight the people she earlier called comrades and friends.

But why? **Why?** The Purple Dragon of Legend sought Joshua's death, and this she-demon allowedhim to go and execute her hoo-man. Joshua surely must have done something to him in his defense; so shouldn't she hate Joshua for it? And even before that, Kilat swore on her gold scales Cynder herself stood before the hoo-man earlier, looming above him. Her green eyes staring down askance.

What happened while she was out? What _changed_, what moved this heartless demon to bet her clutch against the others? Against the Guardians? Against the decision of the city's hero himself? It didn't make sense to Kilat.

Neither did it make sense for the leaders she opposed now.

Green and mean Treedor was the first to go over the line. His burly wings folded in one quick movement; he ambled towards the black dragoness with an intimidating glower. "By the Ancestors! Cynder, what are you _doing_?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Terrador?" she snapped. "I'm stopping this mess before the whole egg breaks wide open."

"By taking Joshua's side?" The Earth Guardian shook his head. "You can't be serious! He slaughtered our guards. He murdered innocents. He brought our Savior—**your mate!**—to death's door! I don't care what or who he is. He is guilty. Several eyewitnesses confirmed this. Even the furless ape himself admitted he killed them all! We must punish him according to the weight of his—

A fierce grunt from Cynder stopped him. "He isn't guilty of _anything_. When Spyro, Sparx, and I first got here, we found him"—her wing gestured to Joshua and Kilat—"arguing with Infernus while Rimeer had that_ little girl_ pinned down like a common criminal."

"But all those people—

"I know you don't want to admit it, but many of them **still** hate me. That child even _attacked_ _me on sight_. He managed to pacify her, but in the process everything fell into disarray; _those people_ tried to kill us. When that failed, Infernus **manipulated** Spyro into attacking him when I **already **had Joshuaunder control."

"T-that, that contradicts the reports—

"Of course it does! Infernus's and Rimeer's Wings are loyal to them. Fiercely loyal, but _cowardly_. They took off once _both _dragons were dead."

Terrador groaned. "Cynder, even if Joshua acted out of self-defense, the mere fact our people initiated this catastrophe does not absolve his culpability—

"Don't get me started on 'our people'." Cynder glared at one of the corpses. An Ice Dragon, lying on a pool of blood that originated from a wound in the neck. Kilat recognized the dead guard immediately. "Did your _witnesses _tell you how Rimeer took advantage of this? He personally tried to kill me, and intended to blame the human for my death. **Twice**! I'd have died if **Joshua** didn't save me_both times_!"

The Earth Guardian's snout dropped at the revelation, at a loss for words. Cynder pressed her attack. "There is something _seriously _wrong with Warfang if we allow _scheming, intolerant_ _dung_ like him and Infernus rise into positions of influence. Can't you see Joshua is a victim of—

A galloping sound interrupted the conversation. Kilat, not even questioning _how_ she was tracking a conversation too far to hear clearly, looked and saw Cyril leaping up and over the entire line. "Are you _insane_?" the Ice Guardian shouted. "You're defending that dirty ape! Obstructing justice! He—

"Is not at fault," Cynder cut him off. She stood her ground. "I **know** what I'm doing," she said. "I'm making sure we don't make a mistake and kill a good person." The dragoness glanced at the energies that had accumulated around Joshua. At the literal holes in the world. "And possibly destroy Warfang while we're at it."

Kilat noticed Volteer walking around the dead space, aiming to join the group. He and the child made eye contact for a second before his attention focused on the nebulous, white mass, and everything around and within it. Kilat followed his gaze, and she too, saw how the cloud ceased growing, how the light illuminating Joshua seemed to have dimmed slightly, how the spheres of death no longer expanded. She didn't know what to make of it, and so returned to the argument between the three Guardians and Joshua's only defender.

"…my respect, Cyril," Cynder was saying, "We can't force Joshua to take responsibility for all of this. It is clear we, w-we only have ourselves to blame."

"Ourselves?" Cyril looked scandalized. "What is **that** supposed to mean? Warfang reserves its _sovereign right_ to refuse anyone at its borders. That furless **ape** was rejected, yet he resisted our demands to leave! This situation is **his **fault and no one else's! Thus, he must be held accountable for _every_ death, _every_ injury in this incident."

The meanest of the Guardians nodded in agreement, surprising the black dragoness. "I agree with him. Whatever happened here at the East Gate between Joshua and Rimeer escalated when he refused to abide by our border control policies."

"But, but Terrador, the other dragons—

"**We** **will** address their lies and get to the bottom of their story in the near future, Cynder," Treedor replied sternly. "But as far as Joshua is concerned, he personally saw to the deaths of our friends and students. If his power is as misunderstood—as _uncontrollable_ as you just said it is, then his responsibility begins first with gross negligence."

She tensed. "Why won't you pardon him?" Cynder's voice had risen from astonishment. "I've done **so much worse** than Joshua in the years I worked for Malefor, yet _despite_ your doubts, you gave me a chance! And four years ago, you all completely exonerated me after Spyro and I returned to Warfang. We have precedence—

"Cynder," Volteer took the chance to reply, after listening to the other three. "Your situation was different. Your corruption—Malefor's corruption was unnatural, caused by ancient, powerful magic. It was an external factor, beyond your control. The Terror of the Skies inhabited your body, and that is true, but she had never been 'you'.

"As for Joshua, he possessed this power _from __the beginning_. As I understand it, before he approached our gates he _already knew _about the devastation the Unknown Element could potentially cause."

Volteer glanced at his two colleagues and brought his snout closer to Cynder, his voice dropping a couple notches down. "And you mentioned earlier he is aware of the truth, correct? About Malefor's... _quarantine_?"

"Correct."

"Then he is at the very least aware of what took place during the War. In fact, he may be more knowledgeable than we're giving him credit for. With this examination, then it is evident, apparent – obvious! – that he **should **and** would **have known that entering Warfang the way he did was a terrible idea in the first place."

Cynder needed help.

As much as Kilat wanted her humiliated, she couldn't afford to see her lose like this when it meant a resumed attack on Joshua Renalia. She could still hear him weeping on her shoulder, tuning out the world. Galvanized, Kilat shifted her position. While she made no move at all to physically free herself from Joshua's tight, one-armed hug, she extended both paws and stood on his shoulders, leaving the young man to bury his face on her flank.

"Well, he did it **for me**!" she butted in, lifting her voice a bit so they could hear her. Joshua apparently didn't care about her loud voice. "I—I, I, I mean, _we _planned on sneaking into the city. Somehow we'd find a way. But, b-but, he, uhm, he thought about—

Treedor looked at her. He did not smile at her. Instead, he gave her a skeptical look. "Why don't you come over here, little one?" he proposed, not seeing Cynder shake her muzzle warningly at Kilat. "You can give us a better account if you—

"No!" she shrieked. Kilat curled around the adolescent and squeezed. Her tail wrapped protectively around his shoulders. The young man hugged her tighter. "I won't leave Joshua again!"

"I swear to the Ancestors," Cyril grumbled. "This hatchling is getting on my nerves."

"Oh, please," Volteer said, almost beaming. "You're only saying that because she insulted that 'rich, cultured _lineage_' you're so proud of."

"Wipe that smug off your snout." He pouted at the Electric Guardian. "You just want the _human_ and his child prodigy. Two, new, **toys **for the eccentric _scholar_ to play with." Volteer began spluttering. "Don't deny it."

"W-w-why, I, I _never_! I'll have you know I am always mindful, conscious, aware, and attentive of my commitments, responsibilities, and obligations ahead of my personal interests!"

Kilat did not know what to make of the two. Leave them alone to each other and whatever words they said poked each other's wingspans. She might have been amused by the mutual display of annoyance if they weren't debating her hoo-man brother's execution.

"Kilat," the little girl heard **her** call her name. She faced Cynder, barely remembering to stay aloft in the face of her enemy. Whatever personal feelings she may have for the supposedly reformed dragoness had to be shoved aside for Joshua's well-being. She gave the she-demon the best predator gaze she could. "You were saying?" Cynder asked, preempting the two Guardians before they started bickering.

Kilat opened her mouth… only to realize she didn't know where to begin. "Errr…" A startled croak escaped her throat. She stammered in her attempts to begin her side of the story.

A condescending Cyril, still irritated by the dragoness, scoffed. "Hmph! In the end, she is still just a child."

"Let's not dismiss her that easily," replied the green dragon. "I have a feeling Ignitus wouldn't."

That name.

Ignitus.

A name Joshua Renalia had mentioned a few times on the way here, less than the digits on her paws.

A name he spoke with great respect in his voice.

That this person _actually existed_ and how the Earth Guardian said it with the _same reverence_ added to Joshua's credibility. Everything he told her in the Dry Canyon wasn't a lie or some wild exaggeration. But who was Ignitus again? She had been told once, but she couldn't exactly recall the details…

"Tiny wing," Treedor snapped her out of her thoughts. He scrutinized her, probably staring at the way she clung to the young man. "You said Joshua tried to go through the gates because of you. What makes you believe that?"

"He told me himself," Kilat said. She remembered the conversation they had, far in the distance, before they even set foot on the Autumn Plains. Her golden tail rose and gestured at the forest in the distance. Even from here she could still see the hill they stood on earlier this afternoon, just past the farms and the windmills. Where she and Joshua admired the view of the renowned City of Dragons. "Back over there. He said it's better than finding a way in without anyone seeing us. If the guard just, j-just let us in like he was gonna do at the beginning, we, uhm… we, w-we wouldn't be taking a, a bath in… ugh, hot water."

She hoped that came out right. Her hoo-man had this funny way of saying things that made absolutely no sense to her, and she was beginning to find the whole thing irritating. But the way _they_ looked at each other with baffled expressions clearly told her none of them understood.

"'_Hot… water_'?" Volteer repeated. Slowly. "Did I, hear that right?"

Cyril barked, "You weren't the only one. I can't believe this! Why are, w-why are we even letting this _hatchling_ talk? 'Taking a bath in hot water'?" He rolled his eyes. "That **must** be one of the most foolish things I've ever heard, even _from _a monosca—

"Excuse me," Cynder interjected. "But other species also have their own figures of speech." She sent a glare at the Ice Guardian. "I know how much pride you have in your personal history, Cyril—

"More like borderline arrogance," remarked Volteer.

"—but you are one of the last people I expect to be _blinded_ by it."

"Y-y-yo-you," he spluttered. "You misunderstand me! Ancestors, that child—that **stupid**, little** girl** implied we, that we don't…"

Treedor silenced Cyril with one look. "And perhaps we truly **don't**," he said. "The Guardians are not infallible. Malefor is proof of this." Receiving no reply, the Earth Guardian turned to the little girl and addressed her again. "Can you _please_ explain what you just said?"

Kilat shut her eyes. The task of explaining Joshua's reasons put great pressure on her shoulders, when she only knew so much. "Joshua said," she managed, "Uh, Joshua said he wouldn't, he wouldn't have to worry so much about me if the guards let us pass. Sneaking in could have been more dangerous for the… both of us?

"I, ehrm, I-I _think_ that's what he meant, but…" Kilat shook her head. Until now, the hoo-man's reasons still confused her. "But he _knew_ a way in! He _believed _we could get in without a problem. And even then… even **then **he **still **wanted to go through the gates. Ancestors, we had clear skies and steady winds ahead of us! I don't, I don't really understand why Joshua **still **walked up to the guards like a dumb _monkey_!"

"Ah." The demoness' teal eyes gleamed at her. Kilat saw a smirk form on her muzzle. "**I** get it now."

Her statement flummoxed the child. "Huh? You d—

Cynder cut her off. "Let's say you snuck into Warfang. What's next? Do you think you'd be able to get to talk to us _that_ easily?"

Kilat replied, "I'd like to think—

She interrupted _again_. "**No**. You'll find the Temple heavily populated, and surrounded by guards. You'll discover the Guardians don't routinely work outside the Temple, while Spyro and I are _constantly_ working, _frequently_ traveling outside Warfang's borders. You'll learn our people are so _traumatized _by the War that anything suspicious is investigated rather quickly, and if it happens to involve an ape of any sort and a young child—a dragon missing a wing…"

"Not difficult to imagine what happens next," Volteer went forward. "Alone, Joshua might have managed a workaround for this, undesirable set of circumstances and conditions. But with a child to take care of—

"Okay!" Kilat bawled.

It was her.

Joshua Renalia had lost his ear, lost the use of his left arm, and almost been killed multiple times because of her. This unnecessary and tragic series of events resulted from his love for **her**.

It **always** came back to **her** in the end.

"I get it. I **get **it!"

She's the one who insisted on leaving Mungo Volpe with Explodon's group. She's the one who lost her wing and became a burden to Lani. She's the one who Explodon and Lani sacrificed themselves for. And now _she's _the one who forced Joshua to switch from a guaranteed safe flight to a turbulent passage straight through a raging thunderstorm.

Why was it always her?

"**I'm** the stupid one here," she sniveled. "I didn't see it the way Joshua did. I'm a silly little girl who _never_ thinks things through."

Volteer tried to comfort her. "You're only young. Naïve. Inexperienced. That's all. You'll get better when you're older."

While Kilat gained little consolation from the Guardian's efforts, she found none at all from Cyril's glacial remark. "His reasons—however noble, however _caring_—are irrelevant. They ignore simple facts." The Ice Guardian stared at her, his gaze as unflinching as it was somber. He did not care if his words were evoking the child's anger.

Lacking mercy or compassion, he continued, "By **my** count, about 60 of the guards are dead. By **my** understanding, Spyro was nearly killed in _public_, with Cynder struck down in less than five minutes. And by **my** assessment, _girl_, the City of Dragons wants that hairless _ape_ clinging to your scales **executed** for criminal negligence and terrorism."

"Cyril!" Volteer chastised. The old dragon glared at his counterpart. He didn't bother retorting. Only Kilat noticed Cynder quivering violently. "We're all _painfully_ aware of those 'simple facts', but—

"Your oh-so-_expert _judgment ignores context, you damn **snob**!" Cynder raged at the Guardian. Her eyes narrowed. She bared her teeth, looking more and more like the demoness who obliterated her parents' treetop home. "Context you're **willfully **throwing away unlike the last time the Guardians flew through this crevice!

"Joshua clearly knew the risks he was taking yet he _still _chose what was best for Kilat! A young dragon he practically _adopted_. That alone changes **everything**! Just like the time the menacing Terror of the Skies turned into a weak, fragile victim at her defeat." The Guardians gave each other knowing glances. "Yeah, you heard me! Spyro told me how Sparx tried to talk him out of it, how **all of you** wanted me in chains and on death row the instant you saw him bringing me into the Temple."

Treedor stood by Cyril. "That human made a _choice_, Cynder. You did not."

"Do I need to repeat all the _'facts'_ Warfang's people **keep shoving** into my snout without the slightest bit of gratitude at the service I'm doing for **them**? All I've **ever** done for Malefor?"

"We have already discussed this—

"And I'm bringing it up again! ARGH! You're all so _stubborn_ I just—

"Hey, hey, hey, **heeeeey**! What in the Realms is going on here?" A strange, glowing insect flew in from the sky. Kilat took note of how small it was—it might even fit in her mouth, she bet—and wondered how something so tiny can speak so thunderously its words rattled her ears. "Why is there a **WARZONE **in front of the gates? I don't recall telling you guys the hoo-man was a threat!"

The Electric dragoness expected the Guardians to bat the insignificant thing aside. She wouldn't put it past the Terror of the Skies to loom over it and snap her jaws to mince and devour the annoying little creature. That Treedor—wait, that wasn't exactly his name, was it?—deigned to listen surprised her. "Sparx, the way you've been jabbering and zipping around like an agitated gnat earlier, we had to gather the facts ourselves and draw our own conclusion."

Kilat remembered the insect had been with the Purple Dragon and his ma—_that monster_ when they descended into this mess a while back. "You've **got** to be kidding me! For **real**? Of _course _I've been flying around like a dragonfly on nightshade, Terrador! Ol' Josh-O just _barely_ stabilized Purple Boy when Infernus suddenly reignited the whole shitstorm like a grumpy loser-lizard just 'cause he lost the use of his cloaca!"

Cyril lurched above the dragonfly. (That name confused Kilat. It certainly bore no resemblance to an actual dragon.) "I cannot believe you. Sulfur reported that _mangy ape _flinging spears of 'light' at the city guard and anyone unlucky enough to be in his line of sight! Buzdag recounted how that accursed power summoned clouds of deadly gas around Cynder!"

"Blah blah blah blah blah," Sparx answered. His eyes rolled away from the Guardian, a finger rubbing at where Kilat presumed his ear would be. A crass, rude gesture. "And I bet those egg suckers made Josh-O look like some kind of evil ape king overlord terrorizing all those poor soldiers huddling together behind Infern_ape_'s big, fat, stinking bu—

An icicle rushed past Sparx. It crashed into the ground with a frightening crackle. "Shut it! Those dragons are near squireship! They swore to serve and protect the Guardians, the Guardian Candidates, and our Saviors in _all and_ _every_ _capacity_ since they joined the Temple. They wouldn't _dare_ lie to us."

"Oh I think they would," Sparx sneered. "They would if it protected the dignity and maturity of someone who lost his scales and started acting like a sore loser instead of the wise Guardian Candidate he was supposed to be."

"Except that wasn't _exactly_ false," _she_ stepped forward. Cynder looked at Sparx evenly, her tone more relaxed in his presence. "Joshua **did** kill all the archers in the vicinity with those 'spears of light', and he **did** envelop me in 'clouds of deadly gas', as Cyril eloquently puts it."

"W-w-wait, what! You mean he actually **did **try to kill—

Cynder ignored him. "But those things mean **nothing** if you don't account for context. That human _begged_ everyone to stop attacking him, multiple times. Nobody listened to him and he eventually lost control of his power to his own panic!" She shifted her muzzle at the golden insect. "And no, Sparx, he wasn't. He was _protecting me _after **I** killed Rimeer in self-defense."

"But, b-but… Deadly gas!"

"Lethal to everyone but me and him. Joshua made sure of that."

"Ahhhhh." Sparx's face then lit up in a flash of epiphany, and his body literally brightened. "AHHH! That makes sense. That _totally_ makes sense!" He nodded feverishly. "Yes, yes, yes, yes. And I'm guessing Sulfur and Buzdag left those details out?" He made some playful gestures with his arms. "Hmmm, exaggerate the intent to kill, omit a few details, and voila! It's perfect for _apparently_ honorable 'Dragon Knights' sworn to serve and protect. Sounds totally legit!"

The sarcasm in Sparx's voice was unmistakable, and his words triggered Cyril to lose his composure and yell some more. "Never! NEVER! Multiple sources, **qualified** by their ranking and seniority in the Warfang Temple, confirmed Joshua as an _active, malicious threat_ to our city, if not dragonkind or the Realms! You two are biased, emotionally compromised, and prejudiced by—

"Ugggghhh," bemoaned the insect. "Since **when** did Cyril start taking speech lessons from Volteer?"

Cynder countered, "You are **wrong**! Biased? Emotionally compromised? _Prejudiced_? Why don't you direct those to _our people_ instead? To the _multiple sources _you're so proud of? This tragedy happened because of them!"

"But this tragedy _could have been prevented_ if Joshua Renalia simply respected Warfang's sovereign rights," Terrador rebutted. "You don't need to bring our internal dysfunctions into this. It is clear Joshua deserves nothing less than execution for his willful negligence."

"No he doesn't! I don't want to him dead, not when Warfang itself is at fault! Joshua isn't what or who you think he is."

Cynder and Sparx stood closest to Kilat and Joshua. They were small, tiny compared to the two hostile Guardians. Yet they remained steadfast. They held their ground, relying on their reputations and arguments. They defended Joshua, and refused to yield even to the most powerful people in the City of Dragons. On the other side, Terrador and Cyril glowered down at them. They wanted their way with Kilat's hoo-man brother, and they sought his death. The Guardians of Ice and Earth had faith in their arguments and refused to believe the compromised motivations of their own people, even after the Terror of the Skies and Spyro's pet dragonfly flagrantly shoved the truth at their snouts.

Kilat felt apprehensive. Her paws curled tighter around Joshua's shoulders. Her lone wing went around his head, while her tail snaked across his arm and stayed there. The child was as protective of her brother as she could ever be, but that was all she was. A young, inexperienced dragon. She'd never be able to fend off the Guardians and their warriors if this standoff collapsed in all the wrong ways, even **if** she had the demoness and a noisy bug to assist her.

The dragoness felt helpless. Absolutely useless. How many times did she rely on others to save her? To rescue her from her problems? Even after Warfang's people labeled her a one-of-a-kind prodigy several times during this disaster, Kilat found herself powerless. Joshua's fate was at the mercy of this deadlock, no matter how much she wished to change this on her own.

Kilat never held an interest for the Elements in the past. Before, she viewed the thrust of "getting stronger" as a crude, brutish initiative. She found it bizarre how, in those old and forgotten days, Lani found his passion—his purpose in such a combative goal. Joshua surprised her too, when he once suggested her Element and her strength would be useful in many, many ways beyond fighting. And now, it dawned on the little girl that mastering—that sharpening her abilities to a certain point could have made big differences in her life.

Maybe she wouldn't have lost her wing. Maybe she wouldn't have lost Explodon or Lani. Maybe she'd have met Joshua at that clearing. Maybe he would have joined their group. And perhaps, were the Ancestors kind and generous with their grace, the hoo-man wouldn't have encountered so much trouble at the gates of Warfang and none of this _bullshit _would've happened.

Why didn't she listen to Lani and train her Element? Why didn't she take him up on his offers to spar with him? To think, after all these years, Lani was proven right in the end. How she missed that dragon. If only she could take it all back and just **listen**.

"I just noticed!" Sparx's voice tugged at Kilat. Pulled her out of her depressing thoughts. "I haven't heard Volty talk **at all **since I got back." She followed Sparx's gaze and found the Guardian of her own Element shrinking a little at the attention he began receiving from Sparx, Cynder, Treedor, and Cyril. "What happened to your blabbering mouth? Why won't you say something?"

"I… I must apologize, Sparx, but I still need to debate the pros and cons, forecast the costs and benefits, consider the advantages and—

Cyril bared his teeth and bellowed, "Damn it all, Volteer. **STOP TALKING**!"

Terrador eyed his peer. His green muzzle held a straight expression, devoid of the ire beleaguering Cyril's. "My friend, stand with us. You've heard our arguments and you know we are right."

"But Terrador, I need time."

"We've debated enough! I don't need to remind you of the terrible position Warfang's in. With our current immigrant flow and economic activity, if we aren't careful a vortex will appear and ground us all. With Aldozira **and** Skylands watching us, we cannot let that happen! Letting Joshua live only increases this risk."

"Considering what happened here, I can't disagree with you. The backlash we'll incur could very well trigger the maelstrom they are waiting for."

"What's wrong with you?" Cynder reproached them. "Joshua is **innocent**! He's done nothing but defend himself from our people! Killing him won't do **anything** about Warfang's fundamental problems. I promise you, when **those** get off the ground, we'll be in something bigger than that 'vortex' you're worrying about!"

"There is nothing 'fundamentally wrong' with the city!" Cyril rebutted. His tail swung into the grass and thumped the ground behind him.

Sparx butted in with another jeer, "Maybe the Guardians aren't thinking about it 'cause they'll be _vacationing permanently _at Dragon Shores by the time that happens."

The Ice Guardian exhaled plumes of frost out his nostrils. Volteer spoke before Cyril had the opportunity to do something. "To be fair, Joshua is nothing if not a tail risk. In the long term, he is inconsequential relative to the 'fundamental problems' Cynder mentioned. If _those _aren't addressed, Warfang may someday become as uncontrollable and as belligerent as the Apes were during the War, decades if not centuries from now. The Ancestors might even task Spyro's successor with the objective of destroying the city."

Sparx stared at him. He clasped his hands together, and nervously asked, "So you are…?"

"But we cannot always look so far in the future that we lose sight of the present," the Electric Guardian mused further.

"**OH COME ON**!" the dragonfly groused. "Pick a side already!"

"Don't pressure me! This decision is difficult, arduous, terrible enough as it is! I understand where you're _both _coming from, but I… I still, I still cannot make that call. I need more time to think this through."

Kilat felt Joshua stir underneath her. Her hold tightened a little more, but she didn't think anything else of it. She was too focused on the argument to notice him opening his eyes. She did not even see the spheres vanish, the purple haze they produced fading away with them.

Cyril stomped the ground. "You are a **Guardian**!" He glared angrily at him. "It is your duty—your **privilege** to make these decisions. You of all people know we do not always have the luxury of time. Now stand with us—stand with your **peers**, and let's all _kill_ that monkey together!"

Cynder delivered her last stand in a calm voice. "Volteer, you **know** this is wrong. Joshua is a good person, and he is **innocent**. We cannot sacrifice someone like him just because his life threatens our internal stability. We need to focus on the **real **problems; hiding the bad eggs won't stop them from hatching."

Volteer's wings wilted. Tail curling around his own flank, the old dragon _backed away_ from the group. "I… I don't… I haven't…"

He shook his head, peering into their eyes one at a time. His gaze fell on Terrador. On Sparx. On Cyril. On the demon dragoness. "I, I-I-I… you can't, y-you can't make me—can't _compel_ me to… to just, j-j-j-j-just…"

Volteer ogled Kilat and Joshua. "…blatantly, flagrantly, brazenly disregard my, m-my standards of, pro-professional conduct." He looked conflicted, staring at the little girl and her cobalt eyes. "We're not, w-we're not at war. I can take my time."

The Earth Guardian _finally_ _snarled_ at him. Volteer jumped. "A-another minute. I, I-I need another minute! A little bit more time to think—

"S-Spyro…"

Someone interrupted him. A new voice. A person who hadn't participated in the conversation until now. But as Kilat's eyes raced across the scene, she realized that no one, from all the dragons watching the heated dispute, had approached the Guardians and the famed Heroes of the Dragon Realms.

"Volteer, where, w-where's Spyro?"

Only then did the child prodigy decide to look _down_, back at her companion. She discovered, to her astonishment, Joshua no longer wept on her flank and shut out the entire world around them. With his cheeks still wet and his eyes a little red, the boy regarded the conflicted dragon and asked, "Is he, going to be o-okay?"

The Guardian did not answer. He gaped at the adolescent. Volteer did not know what to tell him. Not even Kilat expected Joshua to ask about the Purple Dragon after he calmed down and recovered enough of his own sanity.

Sparx's reaction was swift. He whipped out a thumbs-up in their direction. A good sign; Kilat only knew what this meant because of the few times Joshua had done the very same and explained away. "Purple Boy's going to be just fine, Josh-O!"

"R-really?"

"Would I lie to you?" He grinned before grimacing. "No, wait, don't answer that! But seriously, that purple lump's in good hands now. I've mobilized a bunch of people before Volty dropped him off at the medical center." He grinned again and babbled, "They're confident they can fix him up, _and quick_! I'll admit, moles and rhynocs know their stuff. Sure, I know a lot less techno-magic-mumbo-jumbo than they do, but if they say they can do it, I've no reason to doubt them."

Kilat watched relief instantly wash over Joshua's face. "Thank God," he said. He buried his face on her scales, burrowing again into her side. "Thank f*cking God he'll be okay."

The child glanced down, regarding her brother with concern. Without an afterthought, she bent her forelegs and lowered herself, so she could nuzzle his cheek tenderly. "Joshua…"

He did not say anything in reply, not for a few seconds. "Kilat?"

"I'm here."

If Joshua had something to tell her, he did not get a chance to say it. Volteer usurped his chance to reply. "I've made my decision," he pronounced, and loudly. Kilat watched the Guardian spread his wings. With two powerful flaps, he rose to the air…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

…and landed next to Cynder and Sparx.

"**Woooo**!" The dragonfly cheered and flipped in the air. "Reptile of the moooonth!"

Cynder possessed more grace. "Thank you, Volteer. You have my gratitude."

"You, y-y-y-you," Cyril spluttered. "D-do you know what you, what you've just **done**?" The plumes of frost flowing from his nostrils expanded in intensity, matched only by his furious scowl. Utter disbelief colored his eyes, infusing the dragon's terrifying expression. "That, _that_ is the stupidest, **dumbest** thing I've ever seen a Guardian do."

"My decision is **final**, ol' chap."

"Don't 'ol' chap' me, Volteer," Cyril rebuffed. He turned away from the adult dragon. "Go fly in a volcano! You've gone insane."

Terrador approached him. Though his countenance did not look as angry or astonished as the other Guardian, Kilat easily discerned his disappointment from his slow plodding and subdued body. "Why? You know what we'll have to do next. The consequences…"

Volteer did not answer immediately. He turned and eyeballed Joshua for a few moments. "His selflessness moved me." He looked back at Terrador. His old friend. "We were fighting over what could potentially, possibly, more than likely be his death sentence, but instead of defending himself he asked about Spyro the second he regained enough composure to speak."

"…That sounds like something Ignitus would say."

"Maybe that's because he did? Cynder **is **right about one thing. This feels, similar—identical—no, analogous to the time _we_ debated her freedom seven years ago. Eerily so!" He took a deep, calming breath. "And Ignitus—bless his soul—**was** right about her."

Terrador chuckled. "He's been dead for four years and we're **still** following his lead." He heaved a weary sigh. "I hope we aren't making a mistake with Joshua here…"

"I have my doubts too, but I prefer to look ahead in a more… glowing light."

He grunted, "If anything happens, it will be **your** responsibility."

"Ostensibly. I do not expect anything less."

Cynder's voice rang across the windswept hills before the Eastern Gates. The dragoness was in the air, looking down at the ensemble of soldiers gathered below her. Stridently, she shouted, "Ground yourselves! This is **over**. I have arrived at a mutual agreement with the Guardians. Joshua Renalia shall not be harmed! I repeat, the _furless ape_ will not be harmed. We will take him and his companion into the city for investigation."

This announcement was not received with fanfare and celebration.

"What…? But, but what about the people he's killed?"

"He _murdered_ my mate! You can't do this. YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"'Investigation'? That's dragon dung!"

"Infernus is dead. Infernus, a _Guardian Candidate_! And you're letting the **APE** that killed him and _everyone else _go free?"

Someone screeched. "He killed my father! I want justice! JUSTICE!"

"Go suck an egg, Cynder!"

"We can't accept—

A shower of soil and stone burst from the ground in front of them. It exploded violently, revealing the form of the Earth Guardian. Terrador rose, the aura of his Element surrounding him. "**GROUND YOURSELVES**! That is an **order**!"

Kilat watched the crowd suddenly turn quiet at his command. Even the dragons in flight touched down and stayed on the ground, if reluctantly. With one forceful bark, he accomplished what Cynder, Joshua, and Kilat all failed to do. She was amazed at the amount of respect and loyalty a Guardian received. There were no words for it.

"I understand your aversions, and personally I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. But as reluctant as I am to accept it, through much deliberation _we_ _determined _the furless ape is **not** responsible for this unfortunate tragedy. The late Guardian Candidate Infernus proved himself prejudiced, manipulative, and vengeful beyond reason. He acted without the maturity and character appropriate for his station and forced us all into this mess. Rimeer, a Senior Fellow, acted no differently. Instead of keeping the peace, when he saw the opportunity he perpetuated the maelstrom and discreetly tried to assassinate one of the Saviors with the full intent of pinning the blame on the furless ape. All for a personal grudge. It is only because of the furless ape that he failed and was even killed in the attempt."

A cold chill swept over the dragons listening to him. Doubtlessly this news would circulate throughout Warfang later today.

"Rimeer was a conspirator?"

"I always, I, I always knew Infernus had something up in his cloaca but nothing like this!"

"All those people… died because of _them_?"

"H-how could we let this happen?"

"Because of those _trash_?"

"…the furless ape saved Cynder? A Savior?"

"Didn't she try to kill him?"

"Wait. His power. His power! We can't ignore him."

"Forget about him! We have bigger things to think about."

"Quiet!" Cyril roared. "**QUIIIEEETT**!" The Guardian had taken to the skies himself. A cold gleam coated his eyes, and for a second there Kilat believed he might have just been tempted to vent out on the other dragons. Like Terrador before him, his command silenced the murmuring. "If you want to chatter _hopelessly _like a clutch of hatchlings, do it after we dismiss you. For now, be at ease, await further commands, and most importantly, all of you remain _silent_! But rest assured, your concerns **will** be investigated thoroughly. I will approach you individually and…"

Kilat tuned him out. She looked away from the scene and nuzzled Joshua, again. "It's over, Joshua. It's finally over!"

He shifted. "It, it is?" She still heard some residual disbelief in there.

"Mhm!" She nodded happily.

Looking back over the past week, Joshua whined a lot. He grumbled. He complained. He nagged like an old, senile fox. Didn't matter if he stumbled on a rock during their descent into the Dry Canyon, if he couldn't get a fire started, if a bored little girl jumped him from behind, or if he said something weird. Whatever happened, somehow his vexed mouth never ran out of words to throw out at the most random of accidents. If he wasn't too busy losing his scales, her caretaker—her brother was always full of energy. Even the good things—the fortunate things brought out an expressive reaction out of him.

Kilat was stunned to see Joshua so numb. The adolescent regarded her for a few moments, before he curled his only working arm around her and cried on her gold scales.

Didn't he believe her? Couldn't he tell how relieved, how happy she was? Was he actually aware of what just happened?

"You're safe now," Kilat repeated, her voice reassuring. "You're _safe_. Everything's gonna be alri—

"It's not over. There'll be more." His sniffling reached her ears. "There'll _always_ be more. I, I-I-I can't—I don't…"

Her head drooped. "Joshua…"

"Th-t-t-t-this, f-f*cking video game isn't worth it. I… I…"

Joshua must be delusional if he was rambling nonsense. Rimeer, Infernape, the Purple Dragon, that demon, the Guardians, and all the other people who attacked him… they must have left a mark. Surely they did. Kilat let out a sad whimper and licked his cheek, her tongue sweeping across his face. She did it again, for as many times as she believed was needed.

The boy calmed down after a minute or so. Kilat couldn't really tell. But his words troubled her. "Don't leave me," he said. He _begged_. "Please don't leave me, Kilat. **Please**."

She nuzzled him. "I'm here," the child promised. "I'll always be with you."

He snuffled. "I… I love you."

The dragoness nipped Joshua's only ear. "I love you, too." Shutting her eyes, Kilat relished the peace and quiet they had at last. The conflict was over, and for sure, the two of them were going to see Warfang at last. Together. The little dragon-girl hoped the city would live up to Explodon's glowing promises.

Kilat did not know how long they remained like that, hugging each other for dear life, clinging like anything—anyone could separate them at any given moment. For a while there, she thought she was going to lose another adoptive brother, but praise the Ancestors **that** never happened.

And like all good things in the world, they always came to an end.

The child heard the damned butcher call her hoo-man's name. "Joshua?"

Hearing the voice caused the teenager to jump. "Are you okay now?" Cynder prodded, her cadence slow and soft.

Kilat opened her eyes. The dreadful wisps of energy and the holes in the world had all but vanished. She saw the evil demoness ambling towards them, well within what used to be the Unknown Element's dead space. Seeing the monster closing in brought an instinctive growl out of the child's throat.

The Terror of the Skies—for that's all she'd ever be—stopped at the sound and looked at Kilat.

Sparx, of course, heard nothing and kept flying on. "Ohhhhh Spirits! Praise the Spirits! I'm so glad it's **finally **over!"

If Joshua Renalia caught it, he made no indication. "Cynder?" The young man set Kilat down before she knew what was happening. To her fright, the child watched the hoo-man throw himself at the Terror of the Skies. "Oh my god! _Cynder_!"

Trepidation assailed her heart and a raw fear clawed at her as she saw Joshua lift his one useful arm and wrap it around Malefor's General. Flashes of that gargantuan winged monster murdering her parents in cold blood and forcing their children and friends into a sick, repulsive game assaulted her. It took all of Kilat's self-control to stop herself from attacking the ebony dragoness before she raised her paw and…

Before she raised her paw and…

_What in the Realms…?_

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, **THANK YOU**!" Joshua had that, t-that _she-demon_ in a tight, a desperately tight embrace. The act caught Cynder completely off-guard. She stiffened at the way the teenager—_her brother_—vigorously snuggled to those ebony scales. "Just when I'd given up on everything, you came through for me. You _really_ followed through on your promise. I don't know what you told the Guardians, but, I'm still alive. Still alive…"

Cynder did not look like she shared Joshua's jubilation. Extreme discomfort coursed through her entire body. Had Kilat been more observant—more _neutral_—she would have noted Cynder's restraint. A great restraint not to shove the teenager weeping on her scales and enveloping the black dragoness in a passionate embrace.

"I'm sorry I was a little late, Joshua," said the supposed Savior. Her voice miraculously showed none of her uneasiness. "The Spirit Gems took a while to heal my injuries. Volteer even tried to stop me. They **all** did, actually."

"…At least they listened in the end."

Cynder conceded, "I can't disagree. Honestly, _you_ won them over when you asked about Spyro."

"I wouldn't have had that chance if it wasn't for _you_, Cyn. I, I'm, I-I'm eternally grateful for your help."

"You're welcome."

Joshua's one-armed hug tightened. Cynder's awkward expression worsened. Kilat's entire body quivered, overcome by an emotion she couldn't define. A feeling associated with rage and jeal—no, not jealousy. With _betrayal_.

And incomprehension.

"Sooooo…."

Why? After all she did to him? After all she's done? **Why?** Why did Joshua treat that, that _monster _like, like she was… like she was his greatest—

"Ehhrrrm, Joshua? I'd like it if you could—

"OOOOOOHHH!"

Joshua jolted and impulsively released the long, slender neck, to Kilat's _and _Cynder's relief. He shoved himself away from the black dragoness, horrified, but that did not stop Sparx from pressing on, flying around like the annoying insect he was. "What is this, what is **thiiiiissss**!"

Cynder warned, "_Sparx_…"

"I turn away for a sec and next thing I knew, I suddenly see Josh-O drooling **all over** Cynder!"

"N-n-no," Joshua stammered. "No, no, no! That isn't what you think it is!"

He replied sing-song. "With suuuuuch a tender and sweet embrace!"

"It's not what you think it is!"

"Gee, a bald monkey going after the ol' Terror? Spyro's mate? Nope. Not gonna happen. He's gonna kiiiiilll you!"

A pair of black jaws snapped over him, trapping the dragonfly in Cynder's mouth. Kilat saw the golden light faintly illuminating her muzzle and heard the hysterical screams from within. "AHHH! No-no-no, don't eat me! Don't eat meeeee! Don't—eew! Ew-ew-ew-ew! My wings! My _shiny_, beautiful wings! My—mmmff!"

Cynder, her snout still shut, rolled her eyes in irritation and shook her head. Kilat watched her cheeks bulge and pulse a little from the insect's muffled struggling.

"Uhhhhh," Joshua ogled her, his green eyes revealing his anxiety. "Why—? You aren't going to eat him, are you?"

"—tell Spyro you're gonna reg—BLARGH! I'm not some piece of meat you can just—

Cynder unceremoniously pushed poor Sparx into her cheek and left him there. "No worries. I used to do this all the time until he stopped snubbing me like all the other ingrates."

"But, he's Spyro's brother."

"He tolerates it as long as I don't really hurt—guh!"

Her maw suddenly gave way. The dragonfly flew out in a golden blur, slobber dribbling profusely from him. "Spirits. Oooohhhh spirits, finally out of that nasty place!" He spat several times at the ground and sent a glare of utter disgust at Cynder. "And you're a **LIAR**! Three years ago, _you_ _nearly swallowed me_!"

"When will you let it go, Sparx? That was just a joke!"

"You don't joke around with something that might kill someone!"

She frowned. "**Hey**! Tempting as it sounds, I'd _never_ go that far. I'm not _that _cruel."

Sparx did his best to look intimidating. The dragonfly growled at her as he wiped off the last of the muck still clinging to his body.

"It's just _punishment_," the dragoness said with an innocent smirk. "That's all."

Kilat didn't trust that grin. The Terror of the Skies was an evil, malevolent demon through and through. She knew Cynder would have devoured the insect in a wingbeat if given the chance. Mash the noisy thing into yellow paste, to great satisfaction. It was obvious the Purple Dragon held her back. After all, the scheming demoness would certainly want the Hero of the Dragon Realms to keep thinking of her as someone who recently "hatched again"…

"…You can just kiss my gold—

"Oh shit!" Joshua Renalia abruptly shrunk beneath Cynder. He clung to her, cowering under her breast. Kilat smelled his fear and reacted by trotting to his side, quick to wrap her tail around his thigh. The child found it _extremely uncomfortable _to stand next to the murderer who wiped out their home, but she did not show her distress. She held it in. Suppressed it.

Because she couldn't display weakness before the Earth Guardian, who towered above all three of them. His lips were curved downward in that usual, stern expression. His deep voice rumbled with no emotion. "You may relax," he eyed the hoo-man. "After much," Terrador paused and glanced at Cynder, "_persuasion_, the Guardians have decided to exercise some leniency due to disturbing facts we came across."

His words did not come across as sincere to Kilat. She tensed, tail curling on Joshua's ankle. Cynder visibly bristled at the remark.

"**However**, we cannot pretend _your power_ didn't kill all those people. Their loved ones need to be told _something_, and Joshua, **you** must be held accountable."

Joshua gazed up at him. "But, but-but-b-b-but, it wasn't my fault! They're the ones—!"

"Yes, Warfang equally shares the blame." After that exchange just minutes ago, Kilat could barely imagine how the Guardian said that with his muzzle the way it was. "We… **I** realize there were so many ways we could've avoided this unfortunate tragedy. The possibilities are endless, yet every variable aligned perfectly and delivered this misfortune and much heartbreak with it. But we cannot change the past. What's done is done; we can only move forward."

Kilat turned and looked at Joshua. She tried to ignore the way he still latched onto the dark monster, his visage guarded. "Move forward?" He echoed. "What, are you saying?"

"A compromise," suggested the old Earth dragon. "We will defer your judgment and detain you instead. The Guardians shall conduct a formal investigation into this incident and unearth the truth from all the lies and bigotry—

"You're gonna put me _on trial_?" Joshua repeated, horrified. "Are you f*cking serious, dude? Haul me to f*cking _prison_—

Cynder placated, "Calm down."

"—so I can be on a goddamn kangaroo court that'll condemn me to death!"

Kilat did not know what a 'kangaroo court' was, but it sounded like very bad news. "You'll **what**!"

"I said calm down!" Cynder placed a paw on the hoo-man's shoulder. "That's—

Seeing the evil, corrupted monster rest those disgusting pads of hers on Joshua and _pretend_ to care incensed the child. She leaped and butted the arm out of the way. The Terror of the Skies finally stepped back from Joshua. Kilat bared her fangs and growled, "You're lying!" Her right wing flared, entire body shifting into the defensive. "You're **all** lying!"

"You're jumping to conclusions!" Cynder argued back.

"Ancestors, I—**we **shouldn't have trusted you in the first—

The dragonfly was back, circling them like a cockroach. "Hate to say it, you two, but Cyn's right!" He raised an arm and sniffed himself. "Ugh, damn it. I still smell like dragon spit…"

Sparx's dismissal was like a breath of air on the smoldering embers of a campfire. If he was so worried about _that_, Kilat might as well give him something better to think about. If only she could reach him. The stupid insect would think differently in her _stomach_.

But killing him right there would definitely feel just as good. One solid blast of electricity: that was all the girl needed. Kilat steeled herself. She reached into her reserves of mana and—

"Fasten your wings, little ones!" Volteer said, approaching the group. "Ground yourselves before you do something crazy." The Electric Guardian bowed—he _bowed _his large head at Kilat's adoptive brother. A submissive gesture that disarmed the little girl. "Joshua Renalia, you misunderstand, misinterpret, misapprehend our intentions, objectives, purposes, grand designs—

"Jesus Christ, just get to the f*cking point already!"

Terrador spoke a split-second faster than Volteer, "We _already know_ you acted out of self-defense, and eventually lost control of yourself. I'll say it again: Warfang, caused, this. The city _also_ bears responsibility."

"Then why bother—

"Because it needs to be proven **in public**. Just because **we** know what _really _happened doesn't mean everyone will believe us. The truth needs to get _out there_, or the families of the dead—the _people _of Warfang will never be at peace while you still breathe."

"Oh." Joshua looked away. Kilat couldn't read his face.

"Do you understand?"

"I… I understand."

An indignant young dragoness raised her voice. "He doesn't have to prove anything to anyone!" Kilat railed, "_Those people can all suck eggs!_ This isn't fair. Why does Joshua need to go through that?" She faced them. "He's had enough! He's—

"It's either that or permanent exile," Volteer apprised. "The furless ape will never be allowed to even approachour walls. Now, I wouldn't be wrong in conjecturing that isn't what either of you wish, correct? Both of you are looking for something in the City of Dragons."

"Yes, but…!" Kilat faltered. "But-it's-not… it's not right. It isn't right…"

"Tiny wing, did your parents ever teach you the evils of Free Will? The paradox of Fundamental Dualism and Self-Deception as a natural coping mechanism?"

Seeing Kilat's confusion, Cynder criticized the elder dragon. "Volteer, you expect a _child_ to know this? I'm almost an adult and I still cannot understand some of the things that go out of your snout."

"Not with the verbiage tossed casually around by philosophers like myself, Cynder. But a child her age—I estimate this little one is a few years shy of adolescence—a child her age _would_ have certainly had her beliefs challenged, confronted, **defied** by reality.

"Kilat, right?" Volteer focused on her. She replied with a nod. "Did you ever think that this problem would be swept away if the Guardians decreed Joshua innocent?"

"Of **course**! You're like the village elders! You're old, wise, sagacious… I, I-I-I mean, you all know a lot and everyone listens to you because of it."

"Ahhhh, it warms me to see such sweet innocence." Volteer sighed and made a tender smile. He held it for a few seconds. "I'm sorry little one, but the truth is, simply because the Guardians—any authority figure, really—decreed something does not mean everyone who hears it will take those words at face value. People of all species have the freedom to think, to believe what they want to believe. They will argue—they will conceive logical reasons that validate those beliefs and act on them.

"I suppose this sounds like useless trivia to you, but think a little and apply that to _your_ position. Imagine a scenario where, somehow, the Guardians and the Saviors both declare Joshua free. Faultless. Blameless. Yet _all of_ _Warfang_ wants his head. What do you think will happen next?"

Kilat did not answer. The answer was so obvious. Her muzzle flushed from shame, because in the back of her mind, knew the things she said in Joshua's defense made her a hypocrite. The child prodigy closed her eyes and wrenched her gaze down, to hide the tears that were starting to come out again.

They equated Kilat's silence with her assent. She heard the group around her move. Terrador asked a couple dragons to fetch some guards of Joshua's size from inside the city, before leaving the two of them with Volteer, Cynder, and Sparx to update his colleague Cyril and do whatever he needed to do.

"Heeeyyy broooo!" she heard Sparx call out to the Electric Guardian. "Love to know you decided to stick it out with me and the Evil One over there"—a snap—"Whoa-ho-ho! Not getting me this time! So tell me, Volty, what **really** made you side with us? I'm willing to bet your 'intellectual curiosity' got the better of you, eh?"

"Please, Sparx, you know I am above such banal, socially insensitive motivations. My moral fiber is unrelenting, unyielding…"

Cynder sighed.

"Hey." Kilat felt Joshua poke her neck. He nudged her closer to him. "Come here."

She let the teenager pull her close before leaping on his chest. She clung to what was left of his tattered shirt. "It's not fair. It's not fair…"

His hand played with her ears. Caressed her horns. "I know… But, i-it's fine. It'll all work out—

"No, it's not okay!" She saw right through his wishful thinking. "Why? **Why** are you agreeing to this? **I** don't care what the city thinks! You shouldn't—

"Kilat, if we're going to stay here, I need to let their legal system—

"Then let's _not _stay here," she urged him, trying to keep her voice as low as possible so Cynder couldn't hear her. "We don't need Warfang. Let's look for your people together! Just you and me!" The idea made so much sense to her. There were other hoo-mans in the Realms. Maybe they're so far away that they've never known another species. Maybe their amazing electric technologies concealed them so thoroughly nobody in the Realms ever knew about them. But if they were out there, they couldn't stay in this city. It would be an utter dead-end. "I'll follow you wherever you go. Who knows what'll happen? Maybe the Ancestors will lead us to other hoo-mans next week!"

"But—

"I don't need to know about my family," Kilat almost choked at her words. It hurt to say it. "What's the use?" She conceded, "They're gone. T-they're _all_ dead. I… I don't have anyone else, Joshua." The child stared into his viridian eyes, willing him to listen, to spare himself the trouble and walk away from it all. Away from Warfang. Away from the Purple Dragon and the Terror of the Skies. Away from the city and all the people who would rather lie to themselves than accept an inconvenient truth. "You're all I have."

They maintained eye contact for a long time, not speaking a word. Kilat wished she knew what the adolescent was thinking. Just like the first time they met, she couldn't read the intent in his gaze. He could go in either direction, it seemed. His eyes looked hollow, like he was too busy debating the idea in his head. Yet the hoo-man gazed directly into Kilat's cobalt eyes.

He did not even look away when he finally spoke. "I'm touched," Joshua said. "The feeling is mutual. You mean a lot to me, too, and I'm happy you think of me like that." She began to smile, believing her pleading finally got through to the teenager.

Only for his next words to cut her down. "But I'm sorry. I'm really, _really _sorry. **I**, need Warfang. Finding my way home isn't as simple as that. Wandering the world until we stumble into it will not work. **I **need their help."

"You don't even know that! We just have to try—

"Don't bother. I know _for sure_. I will never,** ever** be wrong on that one."

Kilat did not ask him where this assertion came from. Joshua evaded her questions whenever she tried to dig deeper into his story. He always did, and knowing how transparent he was in all other times, this behavior baffled her. That was the _one thing_ he'd never trust her on, but she hoped, someday, that Joshua would be willing to let her in on his secrets.

"Okay," the little girl finally gave up. He was set on entering Warfang. Talking Joshua out of it was impossible. "Okay… If that's really what you want to do," she said, snuggling on him. "I can't stop you. But I'll always be with you."

"…Same here…"

* * *

Thirty minutes had passed before the Earth Guardian returned, with the two Senior Fellows he sent out each carrying two guards on their backs. From the air, he eyed the afternoon sun. A few hours from dusk, it bathed the sky orange, and it was dark enough for him to see the twin moons of the Dragon Realms cresting the horizon. A sight that would amaze the novice astronomer, for sure.

Terrador left Cyril at the Warfang Temple, after delegating the responsibility of enhancing security and preparing the "accommodations" to the Ice Guardian. There was no need to worry about sabotage from _him_. Despite his misgivings about keeping the human alive, he took great pride in his honor and it showed in his efforts, in the devotion he's demonstrated for decades. If he was infuriated by the fact he and Terrador got beaten in a majority vote, Cyril had the grace and political mastery to hide his disagreement completely.

With two of the Guardians back at the Temple, they took the opportunity to visit Spyro in his room. Terrador and Cyril saw him surrounded by machines beyond their understanding, tended to by the best medical experts in the city, magical and otherwise. The team lead gave them his full confidence in the Purple Dragon's recovery by the end of the week. It lightened the burden that had settled on the elders' shoulders, but it did not eradicate the weight.

Terrador worried about Joshua Renalia. In his mind, he reviewed the planned route. Aware of the city districts it would pass through, the sort of people who would watch the procession, and potential security gaps that Cyril may end up overlooking. If he had to be honest with himself, a quick flight to the Warfang Temple would have bypassed this stressful problem. But having worked with Volteer for so long, Terrador could almost imagine the Electric Guardian chastising him for mistakenly prioritizing short-sightedness and convenience above what was necessary.

The Guardians needed to show the City that they successfully subdued the furless ape with little casualty to their elite squadrons. That Joshua will be used as an example, to demonstrate the right way to serve justice: not through quick decisions but through due process. They needed a _grand display of Warfang's strength and solidarity_.

They needed a procession.

Terrador swooped down and, in a smooth, elegant fashion, landed just by the eastern gates. Giving succinct instructions to the squadron leaders, two-thirds of the Guardians' personal guards dispersed into the city to execute the logistics. With that taken care of, the four guards disembarked from the Senior Fellows and accompanied him, carrying the restraints.

A hilarious sight awaited him at the top of the hill. Volteer stood on his haunches, his eyes tracking Sparx as he engaged the dragonfly in some sort of debate. Cynder had laid down a short distance away, and from the way she had her head tucked into her body, Terrador guessed their conversation must have gone on long enough to drain her patience. He found Joshua reclined comfortably on the side of the hill, a wingspan away from Cynder. He had the little girl wrapped in his only functioning arm, and from what Terrador could see, the furless ape truly loved the child. It was very difficult to believe those two met only a week ago.

Joshua was the first to notice his return. He rose to his feet, his stance wobbling. The Earth dragon eyed the sorry state of his body. Most of the cuts and wounds on his body have clotted, but from how they looked, they bore great risk of infection. His left arm dangled uselessly by his side. His left ear was gone, replaced with an unsightly gash. Cynder raised her head not long after that, while Volteer and Sparx continued their playful quarreling until Terrador's footfalls rumbled loud enough to interrupt them.

"We're back," he said. With a wing he gestured to the four guards walking next to him. Two moles, a cheetah, and an atlawa. "Joshua, these four will be putting on your restraints."

"_After_," Cynder stepped between them, "You make sure he can walk. The city is big and I don't want him falling down."

The tall llama genuflected before her. "Your Grace," he intoned respectfully, "we did not bring any equipment for first aid. We were told we can perform all the necessary procedures at the Temple."

She rolled her eyes. "Figures. Do you at least carry Spirit Gems?"

"Yes, b-but only dragons—

"Don't worry about it. Joshua can use them."

Terrador heard the very same from the other witnesses but he never had the opportunity to see it for himself. He had trouble believing it; only dragons could draw out the latent power held by the crystals. The Apes needed Malefor's power to provide a conduit, while the Moles relied on technology that could _harvest_ the energy, but at a fraction of the efficiency.

He watched the atlawa knight reach into a pouch strapped to his waist and pull out a red Spirit Gem. His eyes betraying his doubts, he offered the scarlet crystal to Joshua Renalia, who took it without hesitation. Like he already expected—

Terrador's eyes widened the instant the Spirit Gem turned gray. He traced the crimson lines of power running through the human, watched them converge on his injuries. He really _could_ use the crystals, like a dragon! Joshua grunted from the pains of magical healing, but something was wrong. The wounds weren't closing, and his left arm wasn't getting better…

"That's _Diminishing_ _Absorption_!" Volteer exclaimed. "The more a dragon uses the Spirit Gems in a single day, the—

"—the less effective they would be," finished Terrador with a grunt. He gazed at the Savior. "Sorry, Cynder. Looks like Joshua will have to get better the natural way."

Turning to the furless ape, "Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah. Somewhat."

"'Somewhat' will be good enough for now. All right! Restrain him."

Joshua allowed the four guards to approach. All of them hesitated. Understandable, considering the sixty bodies the Guardians' squadrons had gathered and neatly arranged nearby, and the multiple injured being carried back into Warfang. Still, their professionalism and training took over. Terrador did not need to tell them to focus on their job. Kilat gave them space to wrap the human's arms in rope and then shackle them with metal braces. As they began to shackle his legs, another brought out more chains and draped them around Joshua's chest to immobilize his arms.

The discomfort and ache of being restrained began to show. Yet the furless ape made an incredible effort to hide his suffering. It impressed Terrador. By now most people would have engaged in vain, futile struggles to fight off the guards and remove their restraints.

Privately, Joshua asked the Guardian to make sure Kilat trailed the procession from behind. He did not want Warfang to associate her with him in any way. It was amazing, how he could still be thinking of another person in his situation.

Unfortunately the child herself refused to leave him.

"No! Noooooooo! Let me stay!"

Several times she tried to run around the guards and stay beside the furless ape, and several times she found herself blocked with the cheetah's metal armor and lithe body. "Keep your distance," the guard said. "From here on out, your companion will be treated no differently from a malevolent _criminal_. This is for your own—

"I _don't_ **caaaaaaare**!" The angry look in her eyes and the livid growls rushing out of her throat indicated her building frustration. Terrador expected the stubborn girl to escalate and begin employing force. He glanced at Joshua, who had been silent all this time and refused to say anything as the four guards began leading him towards the City of Dragons. He wasn't looking at Kilat. Not at all. His troubled mien, in fact, gave him away. "He needs me with—YOWWW!"

Cynder slammed her paw on the child's tail. "Please, Kilat. It's better this way," she said, entreating to her best interests. "Stay in the back. Away from him. You're supposed to be Joshua's _victim_, not his accomplice."

"Warfang can go _f*ck _itself! I don't care what they think!" She swatted at Cynder's paw, but the black dragoness endured her blows. She even dropped her weight on Kilat, restricting her more. That did not stop her from squirming. "Ancestors, I only want to be with my brother! I'm not asking for a lot here."

She brought her nuzzle close to the child's. "I'm sorry, but you need to endure this." Cynder emphasized, I'm sorry for **everything**."

Kilat reacted with murderous snarls. Sparks of electricity started forming around the dragoness. Her expression was so vicious Terrador suddenly felt the need to intervene. The last thing he wanted to do was beat up a troublesome little girl until she couldn't move. "Cynder! Let her be. She can do whatever she wants."

"We can't do that! Joshua wants us to protect her—

"If the girl **really **wants to be with the human, _despite _the consequences, then so be it. Stopping her is pointless."

"All right," Cynder acquiesced, and released her.

Kilat did not hesitate to kick Cynder's snout at first opportunity. It was so strong it drew blood. She rose on all fours and backed away. But instead of sprinting towards Joshua as Terrador anticipated, she glowered at the black dragoness, the rage in her eyes palpable enough for anyone to think the child prodigy might have attacked one of the famed heroes of the Dragon Realms.

"Keep your dumb apologies, _demon_!" Kilat condemned her. "You burned down my home. You **butchered **my family! Joshua's all I have left and I almost lost him because **you** **didn't do anything** to stop the Guardians. **I** had to make the first move! **Not**, you! I don't know—I'll _never_ understand why he defends you, why he thanks you, why he thinks you and the Purple Dragon are so good that he worships you _both _at your feet!"

Cynder froze, absorbing every bit of Kilat's hate.

"I hate you. **I hate you!**" The little girl rudely spat on the ground in front of Cynder. "You're not heroes. Not to me. You never will!"

Without looking back at the Savior of the Dragon Realms she dashed towards Joshua, enveloped in golden wisps of lightning. Even in a fit of rage she displayed amazing control. The yellow cloak wouldn't do anything beyond stinging people who got in her way. Volteer was trying too hard to hide his excitement. It was so obvious her natural skill mesmerized him. It wouldn't surprise Terrador even a little bit if he named her a Guardian Candidate tomorrow morning.

He watched Kilat leap onto the human and roost on his back. She rested her head on his shoulder. The Earth Guardian could not hear the two from here, but he hoped Joshua Renalia had something to say to her. His muzzle turned to Cynder. The Heroine had her head down, her wings curled in on themselves and her entire body wilted, from a sadness he had never seen in a long time.

In her life of service, Cynder endured the anger and ridicule from the people of Warfang for years. Everything she's been through in the past blessed her with the confidence and self-regard that she never had seven years ago, in the weeks leading up to the Eternal Night. Had one of the immigrants lashed out at her the way Kilat did, Cynder would've shaken her head and moved on. She would have stayed strong. She might have cursed back, too.

Right now her strength had all but fizzled. In that moment, Terrador saw the Cynder who was beleaguered by guilt, the same Cynder who left the Temple in the dead of the night.

Sparx blanched at this. He did not know what to do. "I, I, I-I-I… I think I'm gonna go check on Purple Boy for a bit. Maybe he's woken up already." He zipped away, as fast as his wings could take him. Terrador couldn't blame him. Spyro's brother simply did not possess the wisdom of old age.

Volteer sat down on his haunches next to Cynder, his eyes downcast from sympathy. He remained silent, opting to console the Savior with his presence. The Earth Guardian chose to sit down on the other side. "That was harsh," he said.

Cynder did not say anything for a while. "…They never forget."

Terrador let her speak. "Rimeer said that: people will _never_ forget. They'll never forget what I did. I will **always** be the 'Terror of the Skies' to them. Kilat... she hates me. That dragon will always hate me. If, i-if a child like her thinks I'm an irredeemable beast…"

The adult dragon lowered one of his wings. He draped it across the black dragoness ogling the ground, demoralized. "Will, will other children… will they look at me the same way?"

.

.

.

"…You're a good person." Terrador sighed, "Everyone who _truly _knows you knows this." His gaze focused on Kilat before panning across the hills, scrutinizing the early stages of the procession and the dragons preparing for it. "The fact many people still treat you like that means you have not done enough, and not for a long enough time." He studied Cynder, locking with her troubled eyes.

"I've been doing this for _years_." She moped. "Every time I think I made some progress, all of a sudden, something happens and all that work is gone. I feel like this _torture _will never end."

"Don't give up. Don't _ever_ give up." He placed a paw on top of hers and rubbed it. "Warfang may never forget, but someday, its people **will** forgive you." Terrador gave the young adult an encouraging smile. "Even a child's fury will fade, given time and good deeds." He chuckled, "I don't need to be Ignitus or Spyro to tell you that."

Cynder, though obviously unsure about it, returned her elder's grin anyway. "I'm not a quitter," she said. Quipping, "Wouldn't be wanted by two Purple Dragons otherwise."

"Indeed." Another pause. Terrador took this time to study the furless ape. He was in position. They should be going soon. "So what are your thoughts on Joshua? Among all of us, you're the only one who had an opportunity to talk to him."

It didn't take long for her to answer. "He's young," she said. "A little naïve. He's got a good heart in there, and a sound mind. A few years ago Sparx told me Spyro used to be like that. It's just too bad he's cursed with that _terrible_ power."

"Are his species also like that? …Dangerous?"

"Thank the Ancestors, no. But I want to learn more about humanity. Joshua clearly knows things that aren't known to the public; he **did **call me 'his hero', and from what I've seen he's the type who'd try to help others whenever the opportunity presented itself. Maybe the rest of his kind are the same way…"

"You two should worry more about Joshua himself." Volteer broke his silence. "Surely his appearance here means something, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Cynder posed. "I've never heard of any prophecies or legends about furless apes, human beings, or this new Element."

"I doubt that matters. Not after what we've seen today. An Element that deflects the others? _Absorbs_ them? Strips a person of their senses? Or rips open holes into the Realm of Convexity?" He shuddered. "I've never heard of an Element that can do all that. And the most disturbing thing is…"

Volteer glanced at Joshua and Kilat's direction.

.

.

.

"That child isn't even supposed to be alive. We all saw her die."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Aaaaaaand there you have it.

The "Gates of Warfang" arc is **officially** over! :D Looking back, nothing much has happened story-wise. And as much as I abhor the fact I still had to go "by the book" here, I'm happy to say I was able to plant plenty of seeds for future use.

Okay, proceeding to replies to reviews. I directly reply to **everyone **who signs in and puts up a signed review, but I can't possibly put all the replies I made verbatim as space is limited and people have better things to do.

Djax80: The previous chapter clocked in at a solid 18K or something like that. People _normally_ take at least two hours to read something that long word-for-word, so you clocking in at a couple minutes short of three quarters of an hour is impressive.

I understand you wanted to call OOC on Cynder for trusting Joshua, but from the discussion I had with you, it looks like what I wrote pretty much makes sense. What's funny is that the first version of the Joshua-Cynder conversation actually had Cynder capable of talking properly. Her thought process goes **exactly** the way you described it, and then some. But then my beta for that chapter wanted me to make it more awkward. So… there you go!

Azorin: Thanks for the feedback, man. Much appreciated. Maybe next time you could give me some criticism? Or flesh out what you liked about the chapter. Anything involving the writing style or my character portrayal will help in preparing future chapters.

Koal: Joshua **did** get some peace, but the repetition was totally planned. (Cynder lampshaded it, too. Reread the part where she was looking for Sparx in CH18.) Most important reason for this repetition was Joshua's Fury. It's important to his personal storyline. But given the requirements needed to control his power, I can't just pull it out of my ass whenever I want. I had to justify it by crushing his hopes and temporarily putting him on a nihilist mindset. I will not allow have another opportunity to do this because of… well, planned character development!

Zero: I'd appreciate it if you could tell me what else you liked about my writing. :D It'll help me know my strong points.

Guest #1: Cynder **did** get better near the end of the last chapter. :) Can't blame you for missing it though. The last chapter clocked in at nearly 18K words.

Folwod: _Aimless_ will continue on to its 20th chapter and beyond, but the story structure will make a shift, as I've said.

Guest #2: Bah. I don't pity him. Joshua's in a video game world now. XD

Guest #3: But if I do that there won't be any point to the story!

ZealousMenace: Got to admit, he **did** last a long time before he finally threw in the towel and gave up. And thanks for the wishes, btw. Still, I'm unlikely to find my way back to America on a permanent basis. I've an opportunity a lot of people would kill for.

DanvilTheGriffon: Thanks, dude! Looking forward to seeing you again next chapter! Hopefully next time around you could give me some criticism or be a little bit more specific on what you like? As I told Azorin, feedback like that **really** help. You have no idea how much they do.

Guest #4: Warfang has a strong racial diversity, so there aren't just dragons in there. But after everything's that happened to him, he's got every right to distrust everyone around him. Eventually I'm sure he'll let it go. Of course, he'll be extra cautious not to tick anyone off…

Somebodynobody10: From my limited knowledge (disclaimer: I am not an English major), tragic stories revolve around flawed characters who see their downfall by their own mistakes or unforeseen consequences, with the "moral" of the story being some realization about human nature, life, or something that is supposed to leave a mark on the readers, whether it has an optimistic tint to it or an atmosphere that's more akin to Fridge Horror.

Your expectations may be justified with your assessment of my writing style. I've tried suppressing it before, of course, but force of habit eventually and always draws it out of me, soooo suppression is pretty much pointless. Thing is, I never intended _Aimless_ to be that kind of story. The outline doesn't call for it and I've resisted the temptation to do certain things I've been itching to do. "Fantasy/suspense"? Those were selected purely because of the setting and because of the variables I've been busy setting up in this story arc. There's actually one story genre that would fit this fic, but FFN doesn't offer me that option soooo… what the hell. *shrugs*

And OOC characters? In the TLOS-verse? Maybe. But the thing is, TLOS characters aren't _that_ fleshed out in terms of their personalities, and several well-known TLOS authors here have told me I can take the canon characters in whichever direction I want and the connection to the characters we were presented with in the games can be easily made despite it.

Let's take Cynder for instance. A Cynder that's ashamed of her past, is visibly afraid to socialize with others, and is constantly guilty of it? That can work. How about a Cynder that has accepted her past, has decided to devote herself to a life of service, but finds the lack of gratitude and the general incapacity for forgiveness infuriating to the point she really only cares about Spyro and the principles of servant leadership instead of the city and its people? Certainly a different character, but that can also work.

So if you find something absolutely OOC about them, I suggest you consider whether your interpretation of the canon cast here has been influenced by other fanworks you've read. Hell, one aspect of my take on Spyro has one such influence: what little I've shown of his behavior is patterned after a great webcomic I've read on dA – which depicts Spyro as an overprotective father and protector. But you've only really seen Spyro active for, what, two chapters at most? And not even from his point of view.

I've been restricting POVs to one character per chapter (with the exception of the previous chapter), and the biases and prejudices of the perspective character carries over to the narrator. If certain canon characters come across as OOC, it's best to assess the circumstances and any linkages to what's actually been shown, as well as any fanworks that may be influencing your opinion, before condemning it as such. It'd also be much better if you can _specifically identify_ them instead of just carping on it so I can adjust the canon characters' portrayal accordingly.

Server lock: Plenty of reviews man. Plenty of reviews. I thank you very much for the feedback, and I hope to give you a good read as the story goes on.

For this story arc, I had to play by the book for the more recent chapters, and you've certainly predicted correctly how this story arc ended. Still, nothing wrong with going the conventional, tropish way. After all, I've accomplished my objectives for this arc and that's what matters more to me. As much as I regret not doing the things I wanted to do to both Joshua and Kilat (hint: I wanted to kill her off earlier, when she just rushed into Joshua's forming Fury), in the end I had to respect the one decision I made when I started this fic: that _Aimless_ isn't going to be like my other fic.

Whether or not the story will play out as you expect it would… well, let's just see where it goes. ^^

Draykat: Great to hear from you again! And as you figured out already by now, it's just the story arc. This story is _far_ from over. Hopefully the chapters **can** be much shorter though, so I can update more frequently. That's the problem with long chapters. They take too much effort. Ugh, I need to be lazier. LAZIER! XDDD I must work hard to put in LESS EFFORT!

Spyro and Cynder having a clutch? Nope. Sorry. Life gets in the way too much for that, though the Guardians are expecting them to start trying to make babies in a few years.

The Unknown Element is actually easy to figure out once you have all the clues. I've already provided all of them, and some people have already given me their theories on what it actually is. Calling it a "Life Element" as a handful have done (which is basically Alec's Element in the popular human fic series _The Adventures of Alec and Spyro_) may be appropriate, since it captures a majority of its abilities, though it still completely misses the mark on its true nature. XD

Blazerforce: multiple story threads are happening! Don't worry, just think on it a little more and you'll be able to separate them into four storylines. :P

* * *

Before I conclude, I have an announcement to make regarding _Aimless_ as a story. The main story will be splitting into several plot threads soon, and there is plenty of opportunity for world-building ahead. With that said, I am **opening reader submissions**.

This means _original characters_ can be submitted for inclusion in the fic, contingent on strict conditions (one of them being that no other humans are permitted). Be warned that these OCs may not have that big a screen time. Not unless they happen to match my needs with regards to some of my plot threads.

This **also** means original _chapters_ can be submitted in the form of ideas, storyboard/outlines, or actual written content. If you suck at writing, don't fret. I'll do the editing myself. Again, inclusion is also condition as I want to maintain control over the storyling and the world-building.

Several people have already contributed chapter outlines/ideas. They will be credited when _Aimless_ gets around to them; I always give credit where and when it is due. Two have also submitted OCs already; they've been modified to fit the story, and will appear when appropriate.

If you're interested in these sorts of submissions, please let me know. And, **please indicate your interest in a PM**, so we can go back and forth on it. For the SYOC part, I'll have to come up with a template soon enough and put it up in an interim chapter or something.

Oh, and don't expect me to reply quickly. I've got a job that makes me work 10 hours _on average_ and I'm busy almost all the time. Finding time to write is hard enough. XD


	20. (City Life) (7D) Glorified Peon 1

**Author's Note:**

From this point forward, _Aimless_ will no longer progress linearly. Multiple plot threads will run simultaneously, and chapters may switch between ongoing threads without warning or continuation. And yes, this means that I can follow up a high-octane, battle-oriented chapter and its cliffhanger with a completely unrelated, romantic SpyCy chapter. Long story short, expect time skips, flashbacks, and flash forwards. Hell, this chapter comes with a time skip already! :)

Rather than posting a compilation of snips as was done in Toko's _Spyro Loops_, I will be putting tags prior to the chapter title. This should be easier for the reader to follow the progression of specific threads.

Oh, and happy Fourth of July, everybody! :D

* * *

**City Life – Employment**

**Chapter 20: Glorified Peon [1]**

"_You reach a point where you don't work for money."_

\- Walt Disney

* * *

Hands settled on the concrete railing, Joshua Renalia marveled at the sight. With the Temple standing on a hill that dwarfed Minas Tirith, the City of Dragons spread out far beneath his gaze. Joshua raised his hand and counted the finger widths encompassing the great walls.

Two.

Warfang was **huge**. No doubt about that.

The _real_ Warfang had architecture that combined magical ores with the Moles' proprietary mixtures of metal and stone. In the illustrations he made for the _Dawn of the Dragon _team, Thomas Girard might have been able to capture the number of dome towers rising from the ground, but he was so far off the mark with its true aesthetics. Grandiose decoration and a painstaking sense for detail more characterized the pre-Modernist structures the closer they were to the Warfang Temple. The chief architect who designed the city leaned towards smooth curves and a variety of motifs that, if Joshua stretched his imagination a little, would resemble parts of a dragon. Some buildings even incorporated Spirit Gems into their design. _Amazing!_

From his vantage point, Joshua admired the intricate slopes of an unusually large structure in the center of Northeastern Warfang. He smirked, perceiving the colored glass lining its windows and its impressive beauty under the light of the morning sun. Thank God for his augmented vision.

For a moment, Joshua's thoughts returned to the days he would sit down and play _Dawn of the Dragon_ in front of a television. Somehow, his brain dredged photorealistic memories of the PS2 game and its environment. Yet the magnificence of the true Warfang outclassed even those, and by a wide margin. Truly, Cyril Aymard's graphic engine utterly paled in comparison. There was no contest.

A calm, peaceful breeze gently brushed the human's hair. He shut his eyes. If he thought real hard, the oily heat of the sun felt more like the torrid warmth of the equator. The wind brought back memories of standing atop the rooftop of a high school building. He gripped the railing and blocked out the world. He envisioned his home, its gates beckoning him inside. Now if he could only just reach for the white handle, pull it open, and truly open his eyes…

"Back again, Joshua?"

The City of Dragons denied Joshua his serenity. He sighed. "Good morning, Volteer," he greeted as he turned around and faced the Electric Guardian under the stone archway.

"A good morning to you, too," Volteer replied. The adult dragon plodded next to him. He, too, cast a fascinated gaze at the city below.

Joshua felt a slight thrum in his life signature. "And where else do you expect me to be?" he answered the unspoken question. "I like it up here. Nobody bothers me. I'm alone. Away from people."

_Away from Spyro_.

"They won't believe that."

The teenager groaned. "Ughhh, I get it. But come, **on**! It's been ten freaking days since you set me loose, and _nothing_ f*cking happened! Are those idiots seriously _that_ unreasonable?"

"I don't have to answer that, do I?

Scowling, Joshua tried to cross his arms. _Tried _to; his left arm barely moved.

True Warfang was a _bitch_. Every other dragon who weren't Cynder, Volteer, Terrador, or Kilat growled threateningly at him whenever they crossed paths. The atlawas and cheetahs hated him equally, and he knew there was no love lost between them. Not when it was so easy to see in the barely-edible _gruel_ they fed him with every day. Even the four guards assigned to him murmured their fantasies to flat-out murder him or poison his food. He couldn't relax. He had to stay on guard, lest the fragile peace shatter and catch him unprepared. The incident at the Gates demonstrated the shortcomings of relying on the Unknown Element and the boosts it blessed his senses with.

Looking back at it now, maybe he _should've_ negotiated something, other than that f*cking procession. A clandestine flight to the Temple might have spared him from Warfang's hate for a few days. But what else could he do now? What's done was done. He didn't have some magical blue box of wonders to get him through that wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff. If life gave him lemons, Joshua had no choice but to make lemonade with it. It's not like he had some engineers to invent a combustible lemon.

"So where is my wonderful, my _brilliant_ prodigy?" Volteer asked. "It's somewhat disconcerting seeing you all alone."

His prodigy, he said. Joshua almost laughed out loud there. Volteer had the audacity to eschew every known social norm in the Temple and offer the child Guardian Candidacy on a silver platter the day after they threw Joshua into the slammer. No strings attached. Every level in the program skipped. The offer even had the grumbling, jealous, high-ranking dragons show off their Element as much as they could. Volteer knew how to put on a good show. If only he'd seen it for himself.

"Didn't you see her on your way in?" he replied. Joshua used his lips to point at the pillar next to the archway. Underneath the shade and beside a potted plant laid Kilat, curled up and snoring. "She's right over there. She wanted to sleep in after giving me my bath for the morning." _A one-hour bath, too,_ _goddammit_. Joshua shuddered. He could still feel all the gooey spit clinging to his entire body. Multiple times he swore to Jesus Christ, the instant the Guardians returned his freedom, a real bathtub and its soapy goodness was priority _numero uno_. "But she refused to let me go anywhere out of my 'room' without her."

His room. The empty, white-washed, mind-numbing prison cell they threw him in after putting him through that mother*cking procession through the city. If they had a blond wig, a bell-ringer, and the "furless ape" in his birthday suit, that grueling march could have totally passed for an excellent reenactment of Cersei Lannister's walk of shame.

"Never leaves you alone, doesn't she?"

"Never." He shook her head. "And I don't understand why."

"Elaborate for me?"

"Kilat's actually pissed off at me right now. Like, she's really, **f*cking** pissed."

"What does 'pissed off' mean?"

Joshua resisted the urge to facepalm. Damn it, he forgot about the linguistic differences in their cultures. The temptation to create Warfang's very first Urban Dictionary surged. "It means she's very angry with me."

"Oh," Volteer nodded. "So she's breathing hellfire."

Jesus-Mary-Joseph! **Why** do these people just…. Argh!

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that's right."

The Guardian took a shot, "Is this about Cynder again?"

Joshua stammered, "Not exactly—wait, no, I, I-I mean, Cynder **always** slips into the conversation whenever Kilat and I argue, but no. Last night, I told her to stop, you know, doing what she usually does with me—

"Actually I _don't_ know."

"Shadowing me! Okay? I asked her to give me some f*cking space and told her to think more about what she wants to do with her life. I _know_ the other day you offered Kilat something no sane dragon would **ever** refuse and Jesus Christ, I was speechless when I learned she told me she rejected it and everything it stood for on the spot. If you ask me, that was balls f*cking _retarded_! And **of course** I told her exactly what I thought of it. You can guess what happened next."

"She lost her scales."

At least he knew what that one meant. "Yes, she did. But despite it all, she **still** woke me up in the morning, **still **gave me a bath, and **still **clings to me like I'll die the moment I'm out of sight." Joshua walked away from the railing and the beautiful sight of the great City of Dragons. He squatted besides the slumbering child and ran his hand along her beautiful, golden scales. The devotion—the _love_ Kilat had for him was so touching, so ineffably endearing, that Joshua Renalia felt he didn't deserve any of it. "I just wish she'd think about herself a little more."

Volteer the most talkative of the Guardians, didn't say a word in reply. Joshua felt his heart drop at the implication. Unconsciously, he began rubbing his thumb on Kilat's snout and playing with her lips. He did not stop until the adult dragon shattered the silence. "Let me offer my thoughts."

"Shoot me."

Joshua almost bowled over laughing at Volteer's wide eyes and baffled expression. Aww man, if only he had his smartphone! It was too hilarious **not** to preserve it on camera.

"It means 'go ahead', dude. Just say it."

Volteer shook his head with an impressively familiar exasperation. "Kilat fears for you. Everywhere she looks, she only meets those who dread your freedom, who would faint at the sight of you walking our halls. Some tried to kill you the other day, _despite_ the protection we've given you. Even Spyro despises you, least of all for getting between him and Cynder—

"Of course, of course!" Joshua snapped. He pressed his lips together. "Blame **me** for throwing a wrench at SpyCy when all I did was hide behind her tail since—

"Did you just say 'spicy'?" The dragon ventured. "And what is a—

"Goddammit, dude. Like, **no**! I meant Spyro and Cynder, and their whole, f*cking lovey-dovey relationship!"

The correction left the loquacious Guardian silent. "…I don't think I'll ever understand the way you talk, Joshua." He hung his head and shut his eyes for a moment. "But my observation holds true. Other than Cynder, Sparx, and myself, you have no allies here. No friends, no associates, no supporters. Not in the slightest. The little girl knows this as much as you and I do; perhaps even more so, as she is free to meander around Warfang as she sees fit."

Volteer lowered his gaze and ogled the sleeping dragon, his gaze impregnated with something Joshua interpreted as poignancy. He was just in time to see the child take Joshua's right hand in her mouth and gnaw on it like a teething puppy playing with its chew toy. So much for his human dignity.

"She will never rest until she knows you are truly and honestly safe," he concluded.

Joshua, facing away from Volteer, rolled his eyes without fear of disrespecting him. If it came from anyone else, it might have passed for a well-developed speech with much thought and effort put into it. The Guardian almost sounded dramatic when he said it. The _fake_ kind of dramatic, like a menopausal grandmother yakking on and on about the latest 'family secret'.

"No shit, Sherlock. Tell me something I **don't** already know," Joshua replied. He saw Volteer's confusion present itself, but before the old dragon could open his mouth the gamer headed him off. "Look, I don't want this situation to remain this way forever. Sure, I'd like the opportunity to go around the city, settle down for a bit, and make some friends while we're studying the Unknown Element." He pulled Kilat's tongue a little and traced circles on its surface. (What else was he going to do? It's _trapped_ in there!) "I'd love it even _more_ if Kilat makes a life for herself here, before I go home. It's the only thing I want for her." He focused on her, watched her sleep. "But how can that happen when there is absolutely no f*cking way in hell Warfang will give me a chance?"

.

.

.

An agony Joshua was suppressing struck him with the force of a truck. His heart lurched. His hands trembled. His breaths were heavy. He barely kept himself together after throwing his complaints, his grievances at one of the few people in this f*cked-up city willing to listen to his tirade.

Damn it. The urge to pick Kilat up and wrap the child in his arms—like a pet dog—almost overwhelmed Joshua. It didn't matter if he could only move his right arm or if she woke up grumpy and irritated. He found it almost impossible to resist the feeling, to stop himself from weeping again. It was a week—a _mere_ week since he arrived in Warfang, and already he felt the hate, the terror this city felt for him. The pressure was **crushing** him, and Volteer only served as painful reminders. As harsh reality checks, dragging the gamer down every time he felt even _remotely_ hopeful of the future ahead.

"That is true," the Guardian acknowledged. "Without intervention, you will only live a miserable life within our walls. The City of Dragons will never give you, _the_ furless ape, any opportunity to prove yourself an obedient, respectful, law-abiding foreigner in our lands." He plodded closer to Joshua, and before he knew it, he felt the aged reptile place a comforting paw on his back. Steadfast and immovable. He felt its firm padding through the oversized, woven tunics they gave him. "Fortunately, luckily, miraculously, and fortuitously for you, I **do** have a solution for your problem."

Joshua shot an incredulous look at him. "You do?"

"Affirmative," Volteer replied. "After, much observation and analysis, I tendered a proposition to my fellow Guardians, councilors, and other esteemed personalities in the Temple. It was a motion intended to free you from room arrest, to give you more space to move around in, and ultimately, to prove you are the good person Cynder, Sparx, that child, and myself all believe you to be. But make no mistake, Joshua; I was transparent, candid, direct, and truthful with my disclosures. It is only fair."

Touched as he was, that last bit drove the nail deep into the hope ballooning in his heart. Goddammit all, the old dragon would **never** make a shrewd politician. Had he held a position of power in his homeland, he would've been outvoted by his more scrupulous opponents in election season. "Your timing couldn't be any more perfect, Volteer," Joshua facepalmed, "_especially_ after the shitstorm that went down the last time you acted on your own."

"A 'shitstorm'?"

Joshua misinterpreted the confused reply and went on. "Hell yeah, dude!" He gestured at the open archway leading into the balcony, to the heavily-armored security detail standing just out of sight, at full attention. "Seriously, I had to **beg** Cynder to help me out, just so I can admire this view! I thought she was going to tell me to go f*ck myself after what happened when Spyro woke up from his three-day coma, but instead I get a free hour every day _plus_ a bunch of guards to make sure I don't do shady shit. _Rhynoc_ guards! And Jesus f*cking Christ, they looked _badass_.

"An arrangement like that must've been a hard sell, even for her. Then—Jesus, Mary, Joseph!—here you are whipping out a proposal out of your ass that makes Cynder's thing look like a cake walk! I don't think they liked that. I'm very, _very_ sure you pissed off Cyril and Spyro with that one. **Immensely**! And I'm willing to bet my left nut on it!"

Volteer sat on his haunches. "While I make no claim to understand what you mean by your 'left nut' and what must surely be profanity in your culture, I can certainly, definitely, commiserate with your misgivings. Terrador and Cyril may have lost the majority vote when we took you in, but I assumed they would have more sense to show indomitable unity when it comes to you, _especially _in front of the Councilors, all of whom called for your execution." He ogled Joshua, giving the human a warm smile. "At least they agreed with me in the end, and it is all thanks to your exceptionally good behavior that the motion was even passed. Truly, Joshua, I admire your tenacity. Most people in your place would have already lashed out."

He bowed his head, curling his muzzle into a grimace. "But I can't say the same for our Saviors." The Guardian heaved a weary sigh. Joshua didn't understand too much of the politics here, but from what little the gamer had gathered here and there, from Volteer, from Cynder, and from anyone else willing to briefly engage in small talk—albeit with much reluctance—Warfang's affairs resembled much like Konoha, with the Guardians replacing the Hokage and the Council increasingly militant against them.

"They are completely divided," Volteer continued. "Spyro is constantly clawing at Cynder andSparx over _anything_ related to you. He was incredibly vocal with his opposition to my motion, too, to put it lightly." He craned his neck down the balcony. "After he and the Councilors lost, Spyro has become increasingly absent from Warfang airspace. He is always out somewhere, and it is stoking _more _conflict in his personal life."

Joshua knew what he was looking at. From that particular angle, one could see the Temple's botanic garden down at the very bottom of the hill. Sometime during these past four years, Warfang erected a monument of the late Fire Guardian Ignitus in the very center of the garden to commemorate his peerless wisdom and sacrifice. Even from this distance, Joshua knew the structure was an architectural marvel. A life-sized statue of the old dragon himself stood atop a pedestal that rose in the center of a latticework pavilion. He already saw the colorful array of flowers and vines enveloping the monument, and it wasn't at all hard to notice the gigantic blue Spirit Gem growing out of the pedestal's base. Joshua swore he would visit the monument once he regained some semblance of freedom in the Warfang Temple.

Volteer must be **that **worried about Spyro, if he had to be staring at the monument so intensely. _He must be thinking, 'What would Ignitus do?'_

"Volteer," Joshua asked. "Why is Spyro, so hostile towards me? He knows I'm not out to hurt him or his loved ones. He knows I'm not here to cause trouble or go on some mad killing spree. He knows what happened at the Gates was just a freak series of accidents. So, why is he acting like, like, uhhh…"

"Like you are the Dark Master himself?" the old dragon offered.

"Saying it like that is just overkill, dude. But I, I—okay." Joshua acquiesced, "Yeah, that's a good way of putting it, I guess."

The Guardian heaved another sigh, gaping at the monument down below. The human felt uncomfortable with the silence. He did not know what Volteer thought about all this. Joshua's gaze fell on Kilat again. He felt empty. There were no words to describe the defeat and melancholy that came from being absolutely rejected and _abhorred_ by your childhood hero.

"…I do not know," Volteer finally answered. "Until now the Guardians could not arrive at a reasonable conjecture. Cynder, his mate, cannot postulate why he detests you, let alone explain the sheer intensity of his aversion. Even if I were to account for the impossibly severe breach of privacy that your entire species have done with their long-distance scrying glasses, there shouldn't be any compelling reason to warrant such violent and hateful reactions to a good-natured individual like yourself."

"Sooooooo, you all have absolutely no idea." He moaned, "Just f*cking great…"

"We are baffled as much as you are, Joshua. I am sorry for disappointing you."

Calling this a disappointment understated the gamer's confusion and grief. Ever since he marched into the city in chains, the thought of genuinely befriending the heroes he had come to admire helped him endure the humiliation and mental suffering. He believed he had a real chance at becoming a trusted member of Spyro and Cynder's circle, at fulfilling a dream every _Spyro the Dragon _fanboy like him had, despite everything that's happened at the Gates.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't a genius smart aleck with a two-way portal, a world-traveling spellblade with a magic key-shaped sword, a hardened super soldier, or God forbid, one of those stupid human-turned-dragons. But he still wanted to believe he **had** this chance. After all, Cynder was quite civil to him, plus Sparx seemed to enjoy having another snarker among them. A few more weeks or months of work, and maybe, just maybe, he'd have their respect and friendship. Having those would make his life here as memorable as possible before he left the Dragon Realms for good, aside from helping Kilat make a home for herself here.

Although judging by Volteer's statements, something like that would never happen for so long as Spyro despises him to the point a deep and black chasm was beginning to appear and break his own relationships apart. Fanfiction writers may give their protagonists enough time to fix things like this, but in real life, every actor moved simultaneously, waiting for nobody.

"Christ have mercy on me," he muttered. "All right, Volteer. I guess that problem's something that we'll have to address when we get more information."

"Indeed."

Joshua wanted to clap his hands together. It would've been a perfect time for it. Too bad his left arm was still disabled and Kilat was busy leaving teeth marks on his other hand. "Okay! Then, let's talk about this 'solution' you got for me. What's this 'proposition' you worked so hard to get approved?"

As soon as the question left his mouth, he braced for something difficult. Something humiliating. Something that meant subjecting his poor, still-developing muscles to the universal curse of hard labor. It wouldn't surprise him if he became some Apprentice's rag doll or a Guardian Candidate's personal slave.

"The Temple has an opening for a manual scavenger, and you're cleared to take it if you're interested."

Manual scavenger, huh? That didn't sound too terrible.

"The work is physically laborious and holds little glamour," Volteer explained, "with minimal contribution to society at best. It's an occupation usually reserved for the Moles, I'm told. Nevertheless it is an opportunity for you to gain mild exposure to our resident community, a little bit of moving space within the Temple grounds, and some fair economic compensation, which you can retrieve from the Keeper of Coins once you are declared completely free, independent, autonomous, self-sufficient, liberated—

"Okay, okay! I get it, man. I get what you're saying. No need to throw the whole thesaurus at me!"

"Very well. I regret not securing anything better for you, but at least with this you won't have to stay in one or two places all day, with literally nothing to do." _To think that was the only thing I wanted when I was a kid._ "Do you have any questions for me?"

"I do, but it's not about the position."

"Oh?"

A job, however insignificant or low-key, represented a momentous leap forward towards a decent, possibly happy life in Warfang. Even a fool would realize how much it influenced one's living standards, quality of life, and (on occasion) social status. Something in the City of Dragons passed for currency, and if this world was anything like his homeland on Earth, then money would be something he'll need eventually.

Yet as nice and as pleasant and as just plain f*cking awesome it was to learn about this, any form of employment would deter his research into his strange power. His journey home. Joshua Renalia had no plans of settling down in the Dragon Realms. Not now, not ever. Other _Spyro_ fans would probably shit themselves and chastise him for even thinking of leaving. Because he was in a video game world. Because he got to meet their beloved characters. Because he was in a furry's paradise or something. Whatever.

In his opinion, those people could all go f*ck themselves.

"Aren't we already busy with the Unknown Element? I know y'all are in it for the knowledge and all, but I want to get it under f*cking control fast, **by myself**, or I'll _always _be a danger to everyone around me. If I start working as some scavenger thingy, I don't know if I'll have time for the things really important to me right now."

"Joshua, we can't continue our research until you make some progress with your hypotheses of the Unknown Element and its nature. I can't help you without that analysis. None of the Guardians can. I told you before, **all** the Elements have at least one thing in common with each other. Any expert at Elemental Manipulation are acutely aware of such commonalities, and it is through these that they are capable of teaching novices proficient with other Elements."

"But I feel nothing, Volteer. I feel nothing! The stuff just comes out of _somewhere_ and does whatever it does!" Joshua flailed his arms ostentatiously. "I don't feel any energy flowing through my arms. It ain't hot, it ain't cold, it ain't _whatever_ the f*ck you're all telling me to look for!"

The Guardian sighed. "You just need to ruminate, cogitate, reflect, and think on it some more, little one. That's all." He shook his great big head, and shut his eyes, the skin crumpled in one exasperated furrow. "Besides, Cynder will not let me continue this until we're _sure_ yesterday's incident in the Arena doesn't happen again."

Thinking about it turned Joshua's cheeks red. He remembered Spyro laughing _especially hard_ after he almost died fighting the dummy golems everyone uses for training. **THE DUMMY GOLEMS!** The gamer had a feeling the Purple Dragon spread the news of his humiliating near-death experience throughout the Temple. A laughing stock for any and all to jeer and ridicule behind his back.

"Fine. _Fine_! I'll go with it. You have your human scavenger. Much better than staring at the walls every day and letting Kilat chew on me all the time. I'll take any work over none at all." He hoped that came out right. If he was in Volteer's place, he might have thought he was being desperate. Last thing he wanted was to find himself in deep shit because of piss-poor decision-making._  
_

The Electric Guardian beamed. "Great! Wonderful to hear your reply." Jesus, that grin would be so creepy if the old dragon had a pair of half-moon glasses balanced on his muzzle right about now.

"So when does it start?"

"You can start right now, actually. I'll bring you to the mole in charge, fetch you some work tunics, and you can go straight to work." His snout dropped, eyes ogling the child turning his hand into a drooling mess. "But you can't bring Kilat along, I'm afraid. The job is inappropriate for a dragoness of her ability and character."

And _now_ his true intentions came to light. "Dude, did you just get rid of me so you can have her all to yourself?"

He denied it with one of the biggest grins he ever saw on his muzzle. "I don't know what you're talking about, _dude_."

Joshua rolled his eyes. _Whatever_. He glanced down one last time, and found Kilat sucking on his fingers. She curled up even closer on his right arm, using it as a mattress. A soft snore or two came out of her mouth. _What the hell. She's sound asleep!_ He stared at Volteer. "Do we have to do this now? I don't want to wake her up yet. She gets all cranky if she doesn't get enough sleep."

The Guardian blanched. "I, uh, uhhhh…"

He smirked.

"…I surmise we can let the girl sleep a little longer. Don't you agree?"

.

"Uh huh. Thought so. And after all that scheming..."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

*whistles* Aahhhh it feels _soooooo_ good to put this chapter up. I've been wanting to start churning out crap like this since way back in Chapter 10.

I'd also like to thank those who sent PMs regarding OC submissions. I've got three new ones in the lineup, and going back and forth with their creators on what they have, what I want, and the impact they'll have on certain plot threads is something I am looking forward to! As stated a few times before, approved OCs will appear when appropriate. Credit will be given when it is due. Those who are interested may PM me for the template to fill up. But just remember: I will not necessarily make them a supporting or recurring character. Oh, and they don't have to be protagonists!

Okay soo… replies to reviews:

Zero: …thank you for the feedback.

Zach: I'm not going to deny that I enjoy "excruciating attention to detail", _provided_ there is actual progression in either the storyline or character development. That's something I've learned from the first few chapters in my Digimon story. However, you **are** correct in that I need to balance this out so my pacing does not suffer. Not everyone enjoys extensive detail, after all. But I have to be honest, those are eight chapters with lengths varying between 8,000 and 15,000 words. That is much better than what I've done with that other fic… which is sorely in need of an update. *sigh* Still missing that inspiration. Anyway! Relatively speaking, that's a great improvement, and hopefully it'll get shorter when I get to another big arc.

JOOP-ROLL: Me too! I'm **really** glad! Well, things will be… mixed, I guess. Who knows? Depends on what feels best. XD Being unbound from the linear structure is liberating.

Server Lock: That Element's good for messing with you guys! Anyway, I disagree with you on the SYOC bit. It's a matter of knowing what you want, identifying characters of opportunity, and working with their owners/creators to finetune their profiles to what works best for the world you created.

Djax80: And we meet again! XD Thanks again for the feedback. And technically, dude, we did not end with a cliffhanger in this chapter.

V-SxC: Hi and thanks for the review. :D Not sure about kids at the moment, but it's a very strong possibility that they'll eventually make attempts. These will be unseen of course. _Aimless_ won't become an M-rated story with blatantly lemony scenes in the foreseeable future. And normal life? Of course! There'll be **plenty** of this.

TheKingofGames1001: I'm glad it's finally done. Thank you for the glowing feedback. Being called "one of the most talented writer[s]" is flattering and laden with expectations. I hope my future output will not disappoint you. And there's no loophole, by the way. That loophole cannot exist so long as I'm the only person who does the plot design, world-building, and submission approval for _Aimless _canon.

This is where my story differs from the Innortal-style Time Loops (better known as "The Infinite Loops" genre) pervasive in other fandoms, and in my opinion, what makes it more manageable and consistent. Look for the discussion threads on .com, and you'll find that it has devolved into a chaotic mess where many writers have and continue to contest what's canon and what isn't and in the process duking it out to enforce their own brand of canon to one another—much to the moderators' chagrin—instead of simply writing snips and good reads. (You've got fics of your own correct? Imagine _multiple people_ going after you for whatever you put into your Spyro/Minecraft story because of something another writer wrote in a Legend of Zelda fic.)

Koal: Hey Koal! Glad to hear from you again. Joshua's incarceration was the intention from Day 1, but I needed to throw out as many seeds as possible for future snips and mega arcs, to refer to "Loops" terminology. I'm not as attached to Joshua as you though, I gotta be honest. Still, glad you like 'im. Yeah, he'll be carrying that trauma for a long time…

Cutie Kyuubi: The review is motivating, and I thank you for it. I have great distaste for those kinds of stories myself, which explains the enormous detail I put into my chapters. Glad you liked my portrayal of Volteer. I had a very hard time with him and the other Guardians.

Folwod: Thanks again, dude! You won't have to wait as long for the chapters now that the story structure has changed. Writing _Aimless _has become much easier. Finding time to write though? Well… that's another story altogether.

Draykat: LOL! I didn't give you an explanation for Joshua's Element! It's merely an approximation, but it's much more than that! And no, Kilat isn't a reanimated corpse.

Bizzleb: Whoa, that is one of the longest and most well-written reviews I've ever gotten for _Aimless_. I don't normally see stuff like that coming my way for this story. XD Anyway, I'm ecstatic that you've taken the time to read the fic and made sure your feedback was fair and thorough. Really appreciate it. Thank you very much! :D

Keeping Joshua's experience realistic and limiting his abilities while throwing out nice little Easter Eggs and references all at the same time isn't easy and you know it, especially with Unknown Element being potentially OP as it is. You aren't the first one to point out the concessions I've had to take with the second story arc, though, but as I've said it to others, while I was uncomfortable with those decisions I at least know I have set down the foundations for multiple plot threads ahead.

Joshua of course will continue to pay a steep price for his life in the TLoS universe, fight scene or not. The internal struggle that he will go through defines _Aimless_. The story would have never existed without it.

Oh, and good job for figuring out Spyro's motivations, even though I didn't go into his POV at all. As for Cynder… I've covered the causal basis for the persistent hate she gets from the people despite her accomplishments as a Savior. Its resolution though… well, I'm still working on that. ^^;

* * *

Regarding the story threads, to keep things simple I'm going to jot down the list of main categories. Can't give out the subgroups because of spoilers or something. OH well. :P

1.** Settling In**. Covers the aftermath of the second story arc.

2.** City Life**. Covers Joshua's life in Warfang.

3.** Beyond the Wall**. Covers events outside Warfang's borders or involving foreigners (particularly Skylands and Aldozira).

4.** The Journey Home**. Covers Joshua's personal storyline.


	21. (Settling In) (5D) Background Check 1

**Author's Note:**

Another snip from Joshua's perspective.

* * *

**Settling In**

**Chapter 21: Background Check [1]**

"_It's good to know where you come from. It makes you what you are today."_

_\- Alexander McQueen_

* * *

"You cannot defeat me! I am **ETERNAL**!"

Spyro let out a panicked gasp.

In a preemptive strike honed by long-perfected instincts, he blurred into the world of Dragon Time, leaped across the divider, and tackled Joshua Renalia down the broad, marble stair. He planted his forepaws on the human's shoulders and pinned him down with his crushing weight. "I _knew_ it!" Purple drilled into viridian. "Where did you hear that?" Spyro demanded. "Tell me! You shouldn't know that… unless"—a purple aura enveloped his teeth.—"unless you're **him**, aren't you?"

Joshua maintained his poker face. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, _Malefor_. I don't know how you did it, but as long as I breathe I won't let you—

"Pfffft." The adolescent's nonchalance dissolved into laughter. Howls filled the chamber's silence; anyone could see his amusement from a mile away.

Even Spyro the Dragon did a double-take. "Huh?"

"Joshua!" Both dragon and human turned their heads in time to watch Kilat spring forward from the Observers' Box like the fabled Savior before her. Spiral horns slammed into Spyro and sent him flying. Almost immediately, the little girl lowered her snout, nostrils sniffing the tunic on his chest. Cobalt eyes scanning his head. "Are you okay? Are you bleeding?" She nuzzled the gamer's shoulder, her pulse of life swirling. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Joshua raised the only hand he could. "Hey, hey, hey, hey." He pawed at her muzzle. "It's fine. You—

Spyro rose on all fours. "Step away!" He yelled at Kilat. But his voice seemed to waver. "He'll, h-he'll kill you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The dragoness tilted her head at him, before turning her attention back to Joshua.

The air turned cold. "Little girl, please, listen—

A blast of wind interrupted whatever Spyro had planned. "Break it up." Cynder landed between them, growling. "This is **not** happening again!" She glared at her mate. "Spyro, why did you invoke an Element? What is _wrong_ with you?"

The Purple Dragon blinked. Joshua saw the cerulean glow of the Ice Element fade away from the tips of his claws. "W-what's wrong with **me**? But Cyn, that ape is—

"Harmless!" the black dragoness finished. Her wing flared, gesturing at Joshua. "Look at him. He's in chains; he can't even **move** his left arm! Did you honestly expect Joshua would pull off some kind of trick? _After _saving your life a few days ago?"

He blanched. "Well…"

Cynder groaned. "And I told you before: this 'ape' is also our guest. He's under **my** protection! How could you forget that?"

"I-I didn't forget," he murmured. Spyro bowed his head, unable to look at her in the eyes. "It's just…"

"It's just what?" The dragoness paused. She waited for clarification, but it didn't come. "Just that you assumed he'd do something?" she finished for him. "Because you_ don't like_ him? Or because you _think_ he's Malefor in disguise?"

"_Cynder_, he said—

"What he said means **nothing**. It doesn't mean anything unless we get more information out of him. Don't jump to conclusions, Spyro. You'll only make a bigger fool of yourself in front of the Court."

"I, I-I, I…"

She ignored his stammering and turned on Joshua Renalia. "And you!" she snarled at the human, stomping to the fallen teenager. Her claws clicked and clacked on the marble, eyes drilling into his. "Ancestors' cloacas, Joshua! What were you _thinking_? That was so **stupid**! You knew it would set Spyro off, didn't you? So why say it anyway? He could've killed you! I warned you several times in private: _don't_ step on his tail and _give_ this Court your utmost respect."

"Uhm…" Joshua Renalia couldn't help grinning. He found Spyro's overreaction too amusing. He still felt the hilarity in his chest. "Uhh, well…" True, the Purple Dragon of Legend could've killed him, but… _it was totally worth it_. Definitely SnapChat gold right there.

Her emerald eyes narrowed. Cynder approached closer. Kilat tried to stand up to her, only to be shoved away with a paw on the head. Joshua stiffened, seeing the black dragoness right on top of him. An awkward second passed. What was she going to—

Cynder bent over and caught the tunic between her teeth. She forced him to sit straight up, then thrust her snout into his face. "Did you _seriously_ just say that was 'totally worth it'?"

"**Oh.**" He scratched his head.** "**That, errr, t-that slipped out, huh?"

"Well?" Her terrible breath wafted into his nose again, but he couldn't look away. It might piss her off more. Somehow, the gamer found an irritated Cynder more frightening than a livid Spyro. "Do you have anything to say, _human_?"

"I'm sorry," Joshua raised his hands, palms outward. "I'm really sorry! I couldn't resist trolling him. I just **had **to do it."

If the dragoness did not comprehend the meaning of the word 'troll', she did not show it. "Why?"

"Because… I…" He blushed. "I did it for the lulz."

"'For the lulz'," Cynder repeated, deadpan.

If he had looked at a mirror at that moment, he would've seen his cheeks becoming a fuller red. "Yes, Cynder," he confessed, nodding. "For the lulz." His reply did not satisfy Spyro's mate. Her black muzzle was still inches in front of him, sporting a chagrinned expression. Joshua could make out each individual scale around her nostrils, the vertical creases on her black lips, and the complex texture of her viridian irises. His discomfort intensified by the second. The more he looked at Cynder—the more he stared into those spheres, the more he felt compelled to answer her unspoken question. "It was hilarious."

"So that was all a joke, wasn't it?"

"…Yes."

"And you did it, just because you could."

"…Yes, ma'am. And, a-and it was epic."

"'Epic', huh?" Cynder's gaze lingered on Joshua for a few more seconds. It felt judging, as though she was once more appraising his person. And there it was again, that urge to speak, to fill the silence with more babble, whatever good it would do for him. Joshua would have folded had the dragoness sighed a second later. Her sigh was overpowering, the stench nearly sending the teenager to the floor reeling. But either she did not notice or Joshua was just too good an actor. "I never thought someone like you could be so stupid and immature."

Sparx's loud voice shot down from the Observers' Box. "Maybe he's got some rocks in his head," the dragonfly mused.

Cynder did not comment and simply turned away, while Kilat sidestepped around the former Terror of the Skies, taking this chance to inspect Joshua. She set her paws on his shoulders and ogled his face. "Are you okay?" the child said. "What did she say to you? You _really_ don't have rocks in your head, right?" She began nuzzling his temple, eyes poring across it. "Right?"

Joshua gently pushed away Kilat's snout. Her sniffing was starting to irritate him. "I'm okay, Kilat. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I was just… being stupid, that's all. Yeah."

"Why? That wasn't funny at all. You got hurt, too!"

Joshua did not answer. He was too busy watching Cynder amble to Spyro's side. She licked his snout twice, but the Hero snubbed her. He turned away and shuffled past his mate. Cynder's tail brushed longingly against his flank, but Spyro ignored her as he made his way back to the Observers' Box. Joshua's and Spyro's eyes met as he passed, his life signature shrunken, cold, and blue. The weight in that purple gaze was penetrating, so penetrating that the human could not even mutter a more personal—a more sincere apology to either him or the Court.

Spyro himself proved stronger—better than Joshua when he stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Observers' Box. "My apologies to everyone, for the disrespect," he said. His voice rang clear across the audience chamber. "I was impulsive. I was reckless. But I was only doing what I thought was right. I am very sorry for the trouble."

Joshua's gaze swung back to Cynder. He could feel sense her pulse of life. The human extended his ego boundaries a little, to assess her. A lukewarm sensation came over him. He felt it thrumming. Its size fluctuated multiple times a second. One look at her muzzle and he knew what Spyro did hurt her. This was not the first time they fought over him and he had an inkling their relationship was going through a bit of turbulence, but he never expected it to be _this_ serious. Was there, was there something he could do? The thought of being responsible for the tension—for _aggravating_ it further today brought feelings of guilt—

Kilat shoved her face and horns into Joshua's cheek. "Not _now_, Kilat." He struggled to push her snout aside. "What is it?"

"You didn't answer me," she mewled. "Why'd you do it? Ancestors, was that _really _a joke? I don't get it. Who'd laugh at any of that?"

"You won't," Joshua said. "You won't understand. It's just something from my life back at home," he explained. "Something my friends and I used to joke about."

Yeeaahhhhh, there was really no way he could explain himself to anyone here in this world. Thing was, when it came to _Spyro the Dragon_, specifically the TLoS continuity, fanfiction whose plots took place after _Dawn of the Dragon_ almost **always** opened with one of the very last lines Malefor had in-game. One could even say it was among his last words.

Readers of post-DotD _Spyro_ fanfiction have come across these six words time and time and time again. It became a taboo. A huge red flag for those seeking out quality stories to sink their scarce, precious time into. A few prominent TLoS fanwriters had gone as far as calling it something "to be avoided", unable to even count how many times they clicked on a story and found those very words in the first line alone.

Given the information that people sought from Joshua Renalia in this particular chapter of his life, it seemed almost appropriate to begin with something overused, overdone. It even had the benefit of attracting attention, for no one but the Saviors would know _exactly_ what transpired between them and the great beast they sealed inside the depths of the planet.

He expected astonishment from the two Saviors, but good f*cking Lord, Spyro reacted **perfectly**. His rage, his anxiety, his vicious movements… as alarming as it was for Joshua, the instant he was brought down, all he could think of were memes and Youtube videos for everything that pissed him off when it came to the franchise, from the post-DotD templates to the gigantic farce called _Skylanders: Spyro's Adventure_. SnapChat material indeed. If he had a way back home right now, he could've made a GIF out of it.

Joshua felt someone's paw on the base of his spine. He turned and noticed Cynder was once again behind him. A little pressure from her soft, muggy pads urged him to stand. "Get up," she said. "Didn't you hear Terrador? We're resuming the hearing. This time, no more jokes; no more trolling (whatever that is); and no more 'lulz'. _Or __else_. Got it?"

Joshua nodded, visibly nervous of Cynder. Her voice was grumpy, if not choleric. No way in hell he was going to mess around. Not when she sounded like his girlfriend while she was having her period. "I hear you loud and clear."

Without another word or gesture, the dragoness leaned her head towards Kilat. "You're coming with me," she said. "We're only permitted to watch from the Observer's Box." The child acquiesced, vaguely understanding the protocols of the audience chamber. Halfheartedly, she began to walk away, only for Cynder to reach down and bite down on Kilat's neck. The child yelped as the older dragoness lifted her up by the scruff. Before she could react, with a flair of her wings Cynder jumped straight up and past the divider, then set Kilat down before sitting on her haunches. Oddly enough, she placed herself far away from Spyro, sitting on the other side with so many people between him and Sparx.

"Before we continue," Terrador spoke, "I have one last thing to say about the matter." Joshua looked up the broad marble stairs, ogling the four pedestals installed on top. The Guardians occupied all of them. Three, actually, indicating a replacement for Ignitus hasn't been found yet. Volteer's, Cyril's, and Terrador's expressions were unreadable, their eyes watching him. Reading him. "While impulsive, I feel Spyro was justified at the very least. This is most likely irrelevant to matters concerning **only** the Purple Dragon, but it highlights the"—he paused, mulling over the proper word to use.—"_intrigue_ in Joshua's origins, considering what we can infer from the very facthe possesses this knowledge."

"I still stand by my opinion," Cyril asserted. "It is impossible—it is outrageous for Joshua to know Malefor's last words in its exact verbatim. Only the Saviors would know what they are."

"You still say that even after he proved otherwise right in front of you?" Volteer questioned. "You saw how Spyro reacted to him. That cannot be faked."

"Bah!" Cyril dismissed him. "That was all good luck. I would bet a few coins the furless ape just pulled it out of his rump."

Observing the Guardians from below, Joshua realized how ingeniously the audience chamber was designed. His emerald eyes panned the room. Populated by Cynder, Kilat, Sparx, Spyro, and God knew how many people attending this meeting, the Observers' Box rose to his left and hugged the wall in its entirety. To his right a gentle breeze swept through a row of wide, open windows. Curtains bearing the colors of the Elements swayed along, as though beckoning the viewer to come and see the impressive panorama of the Warfang cityscape, the southern side of the wall, and the endless ocean beyond it.

With one of the only entrances to this chamber situated directly behind him, Joshua surmised this grand arrangement emphasized—and in an intimidating manner—who exactly ran the show here. The fabled Heroes of the Dragon Realms held no seats of their own, but their company certainly had a decorated atmosphere to it, bereft of either the riffraff from the rest of the city or the resident students of the Temple. _Must be the Warfang Council_, the human theorized. Apparently, Spyro and Cynder's status as Saviors afforded special privileges.

If it wasn't for the Guardians or the Observers' Box, Joshua might have imagined himself in Meereen, speaking before the Mother of Dragons. _Man, I wonder if Jon Snow stayed dead or GMMR resurrected him in season six_…

Damn it. He shouldn't be thinking about this shit now.

Luckily Terrador and Volteer were still trying to persuade Cyril.

"Hey," he raised his voice. "May I say something? Just to make things clear."

Cyril looked like he was about to snap, but Terrador silenced the Ice Guardian with a withering look. "You may."

"Great." Goddammit. He'd have clapped his hands if he could. Joshua settled with making eye contact with the old Ice Dragon. _Don't be intimidated. Don't be intimidated…_ "Cyril, if you really think I'm whipping all this stuff out of my f*cking ass, how does that explain what I know about Cynder and her second possession?"

The Councilors in the Observers' Box looked at each other. Those closest to the black dragoness eyed her warily. Some backed off, just a little. Cynder herself was downcast. She turned away, ashamed. On the other hand, Kilat stared straight at him. Listening to every word.

"What the **f*ck**, you guys!" Joshua carped. "I blurted it out shamelessly while I was under the influence of Fear! You know, during that whole _bullshit _that happened in front of your gates. The _entire_ city knows it by now. We're not breaking new ground here." He glared at the councilors as a group. "Besides, Malefor was a Purple Dragon. I don't think any of y'all would have had better luck fending him off in Cynder's place! It's not like you have to worry about it now, anyway. I mean, Jesus, her partner's a Purple Dragon himself!"

That alleviated their concerns a little. Joshua could tell from the slight slackening in their life signatures. Cyril, however, remained unimpressed. His pulse of life stayed as glacial as ever, reflecting in the tight scowl on his azure muzzle. "And so?" he challenged. "How is this relevant?"

"How about the fact _nobody here _knew about it? Your Saviors would've kept this secret until they died and maybe even centuries beyond that if I didn't just throw it out there while I was hallucinating." Joshua glanced at the Observers' Box and eyed the two dragons. "Am I right? Spyro? Cynder?"

Cynder did not turn to him. She kept her eyes trained to the ground. Her wings remained limp. Her tail, lifeless. Joshua felt heat from her pulse of life. It swirled slowly, its intensity flaring from its center within. Any dumbass could discern the raw guilt tearing at her inside.

No one did a thing to help her. The Councilors were apathetic. The Guardians were bound by duty and decorum, while Kilat simply didn't care. Sparx looked oblivious. And Spyro…

Spyro looked worried. A familiar expression, probably from the few emotional cutscenes TloS had as a series. Seeing it returned Spyro to the pedestal Joshua had held for him in his childhood days. And, as though true to this image, the Purple Dragon of Legend discarded the worry from his muzzle, steeled himself, and met Joshua's eyes. "It's true," he spoke softly, gently. Now this… _this_ was the protagonist—the fabled Hero as the gamer remembered him.

Even a gentle voice would reach to the far ends of a room if it was the only one keeping the silence at bay.

"The Dark Master corrupted Cynder a second time. He wanted her to kill me. Maybe he thought I would kill her in self-defense. It would've been one less dragon to worry about. If it wasn't for that curse, Cynder and I would've never realized how much we loved each other. And that's what brought her back. Love can be a powerful thing.

"We never told anyone about this when we returned to Warfang." Spyro's muzzle lingered on each and every other person in this room. His voice seemed to address each one individually. "Why should we? It's a private moment. It's _our _moment. It happened between us, and _only_ us. Besides, I didn't want anyone to look at Cynder any differently just because she got hit by a curse again."

Spyro ended it on that note. After a momentary pause, Joshua asked, "That's happening now, isn't it? Because that secret became public knowledge a few days ago?"

Spyro sat on his haunches. He did not answer him. He did not need to.

The gamer continued, "For what it's worth, Spyro, I'm really sorry about that. If I had known what was happening to me, I wouldn't have said it."

The dragon glanced up at him. He said nothing. Joshua wondered what the Hero was thinking. Did he accept his apology? Was he still processing it? Or was Spyro reassessing his measure him? The adolescent hoped his sincerity shone through.

"You probably wouldn't have figured it out anyway," Terrador said. "The Fear Element triggers unique responses among individuals. You are no different."

Then why did he see Malefor then? Why did Cynder's Phantom Fright make him see visions of that Big Bad Dragon murdering his entire family and destroying the world _he_ knew?

He tested the waters. "It makes me relive my worst fears, doesn't it?"

"Hmm, yes and no," Terrador answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Multiple factors determine what you see, so it's not necessarily your 'worst fears'," the Earth Guardian explained, before moving things along. "But that's a conversation you can take up with Volteer in private, _later_. Whatever you saw—regardless of what it was, the fact is your knowledge is valid. That is indisputable." He glanced at Cyril. "I am sorry, Cyril, but this proves Joshua Renalia _is _aware of Malefor's last words and _clearly_ he wasn't guessing."

The Ice Dragon grumbled, "The evidence is against me; I'll concede to that. But this only makes things more…"

"More interesting?" offered Volteer.

Cyril went another direction. "More complicated."

"It does," Terrador agreed. His muzzle faced Joshua directly, his gaze trained right at him. "How did you know all of this? Why do you even have this information in the first place?"

Finally, the loaded question.

Since Day 1, Joshua Renalia circled this question many times in his solitude. His backstory was one of the few things that constantly nagged him at every step of the way. From the long hike of his very first day and the long hours he wasted trying to see Ignitus in the Spirit Gems, to the nights he spent admiring the twin moons and the unfamiliar arrangement of stars in the sky.

Kilat's intent gaze reminded him of the couple of times she asked about humanity, on their way here. She must be remembering how all those conversations they've had. (Hopefully she didn't recall him yelling at her.) They always led to complex science things Joshua knew shit about. Not _once_ did the dragon-girl truly ask about his species. It nearly got to that point, but at the time Joshua had successfully distracted her with the way humans harnessed electricity to manipulate the world itself.

This time Joshua had no such escape. Everyone in this room wanted to know more about humanity. Enormous pressure came from every corner of this audience chamber. The members of the Court all had distinct life signatures: frigid, shrunken, but with a hot epicenter at the brink of ignition.

Even Kilat's pulse of life felt identical. Her cobalt eyes bored in on him so strongly Joshua could feel her stare. There was no question that her curiosity had returned. She's bound to interrogate him again, back in his "room".

The human clenched his fist. Kilat wasn't the type to keep quiet. The dragoness would jump at the instant he said something that contradicted what he already told her. Right now, that adorable little girl was the biggest threat to him. She could cross-examine him at any given moment. And that wasn't adorable. Not at all.

Joshua had to be careful. He had to be truthful. He had to be consistent.

He had to…

.

.

He had to lie better.

In fact, he had to lie so damn good that he'd believe in his own bullshit.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Challenge accepted.

Barney would be so proud of him. If he pulled this off right, this would be legen…

.

.

.

Joshua slapped his chest with his right hand and clutched the tunic. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself. "Terry"—the Guardians looked at each other in confusion.—"I mean Terrador. I'll start this off nice and easy, ayt?"

Another deep breath. It's go time.

"Humans live far away. We're **very** far. We're **so **far and **so** isolated, that the majority of humankind thinks dragons like y'all don't exist." He eyed the people in the Observers' Box. "Same goes for talking moles, warrior cheetahs, clothed bears, rhynoc guards, and nasty gnorcs. Plenty of humans _believe_ we're the only sentient beings in the world!"

Hopefully the people living in the Dragon Realms haven't fleshed out the world map during the past four years of peace. Otherwise, he'd be totally f*cked.

At the declaration, the Councilors began murmuring at one another. Sparx started zipping around the Observers' Box. Only the Guardians, Spyro, Cynder, and Kilat focused their undivided attention on him.

"Seeing all of you in this room, that's _obviously_ not true." He went on, "But there's no way we would know that, since we lived so far away. **However**, my kind is also a curious bunch. Soooo, while some humans _disagree_ with that belief as a matter of principle, there are so, so, so, soooooo many more who would rather _test_ it and prove it right or wrong."

Joshua paused it there, and let silence do his work for him. The adolescent fanboy gave the Guardians and his idols plenty of time for his words to sink in. He monitored their life signs, their body language, even the movement of their eyes.

Terrador's frown _probably _meant he understood the implications and didn't like it. Cyril's narrowed eyes and upward-facing muzzle indicated his slow processing. Kilat was opening her mouth, as though murmuring speculation to herself. Joshua found it amusing to notice Sparx doing the exact same thing, and with that signature "thinking man" pose he was portrayed with several times in-game. His heroes—the both of them—stared straight at him patiently, their snouts unreadable but obviously interested in what he was going to say next.

Volteer gasped. "Ah!" The old Electric dragon sounded like he just experienced an orgasm in his brain. "Your people sent out reconnaissance? Explorers? Surveyors? Scouts?"

"That's right," Joshua said with a grin, channeling his best Tron Bonne impression. "Yooou got it!" Man, a round of applause would be so appropriate for him right about now. "And naturally, those same explorers kept to themselves. To avoid discovery, you know. We're real wary about meeting other intelligent—other _sentient _people, I mean. Fear of the unknown and all that.

"To aid the exploration effort—and _obviously _guarantee my species has full control over our own discovery—we invested in devices that allowed people to hear and see from great distances."

Kilat started jumping excitedly. Right on cue. "Ooh, ooh! Ooooohh! The camlas! The camlas!" Joshua's heart ached at her antics. The child was just so _cute_. Goddammit, she was distracting him. "You're talking about the camlas, huh? Those things that run on electricity, right? Riiighhht?"

Three.

Two.

One.

Volteer tripped and gracelessly stumbled right off his pedestal. "You, y-y-you can perform long-distance scrying with **electricity**?"

Joshua couldn't have timed this better himself.

"I-i-i-impossible! Joshua, as eccentric as we all find you, you must be pulling our tails. **All** our tails! Electricity cannot perform such magic. It is wild, untamed, uncontrollable—an Element born from the skies itself!"

Cyril scoffed. Joshua eyed the Ice Dragon. He didn't seem _that_ impressed by the revelation. A quick glance at Terrador also revealed the same thing. The Councilors all had neutral expressions, and their life signatures were cold. Shaking, but cold. What's wrong? Shouldn't they be reeling on the floor like the Electric Guardian?

"Don't believe the ape, Volteer," Cyril advised. "Joshua's species cannot perform any of this. He is lying by the skin of his teeth. Mixing truth with his lies, to make them more believable." He glared at the young man. "He has no intentions of revealing the _real reason _to us."

Next to him, Terrador only harrumphed. His muzzle bobbed a little, as though insisting the human to elaborate.

Joshua shook his head, his arm outstretched. What the f*ck is this shit? Why did they want him to explain some more?

As a matter of fact, why didn't Cyril believe him? Sure, the old man—the senile _dragon _who seemed to hate his guts pegged him right. It was true: just about **everything** he said were blatant lies and half-truths, concocted to fit the context of the Dragon Realms as he knew from direct observation and memories of both _Spyro_ continuities. Yet those little tidbits about humanity and the technology they had? Those were all f*cking real.

High-tech digital cameras of the 2010s. He wasn't lying at all! He wasn't even exaggerating their ability. They had cameras that could freaking **see **the surface of the moon in all its wonderful detail from the f*cking Earth!

And that bit about humans generally being afraid of aliens and mutant freaks? Oh come on. Seriously? _Independence Day_, people! How about _War of the Worlds_, or _Edge of Tomorrow_? DC Comics even had _Injustice: Gods Among Us _three months before Warner Brothers announced that _Dawn of Justice_ movie back in 2013's Comic-Con. Plus, video games explored this theme just as well as the movies did. _Dead Space_, _Alien: Isolation_, and even _Mass Effect_'s backstory for crying out loud. Joshua was **not** lying when he gave this detail a few seconds in the limelight. Complete and utter sincerity should have shown on his face. They should have believed him without question.

So why—

Volteer's voice sliced through his incredulity. "Joshua," he called from his pedestal. He appeared to have regained a bit of his composure. "You're not aware of this, but magic is uncommon in the Realms." The dragon must have seen the disorienting perplexity and confusion on his face. God, he was _so _thankful for the few allies he had here. "Few people of _any _species possess the mana reserves needed to become a magician or spellcaster, and even then, magic is taught, practiced, and researched only in Skylands and in Castle Shadowstone. 'Long-distance scrying' itself is considered extremely advanced. Only a few individuals can perform it.

"But, b-but what about you dragons?" Joshua asked. "Didn't you guys have, like, a Pool of Visions or something in the old Temple? Don't the Purple Dragons have awesome magic and all that? Aren't your 'Elements' also magic?"

His answer disappointed him. "No, they're not. There is a distinction between our abilities and true magic. I'm afraid, ashamed, and embarrassed to admit that I do not know the specific nomenclature, so I cannot really explain any more than that.

"I don't think the technical details are important anyway, Joshua, because you're insinuating your _entire_ _species_ is capable of and proficient with something only a clutch's worth of people can do—and _barely_ at that." Volteer looked at him. His eyes screamed apology. "I'm sorry," he said with a shake of the head. "But the thought, it, i-it breaks common sense."

Oh boy.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, ohhhh boy.

This was a tough one. He had to explain how a camera worked. F*ck, did he have to explain how _eyes_ worked, also? Joshua scanned his audience. They were all ogling him, waiting for his reply. God-f*cking damn it all. This was the **one** time he listened to his school teachers, or at least wished he was a walking Wikipedia.

_Gotta remember your biology and computer 101, dude. Remember. _

_Gotta remember._

_Got to freakin' remember!_

He raised his hand. "Give me a moment," he said. He hoped his words came out calm, collected, and unperturbed. "This is going to be a little"—What was that word Volteer just used?—"uhhhh, technical, even though it's basic knowledge where I'm from."

"Ancestors help us," Joshua heard Cyril mutter. "He's about to feed us with more dragon dung."

Terrador retorted, "Keep an open mind, Cyril. Maybe it's something we've never heard of before."

Cyril did not reply back.

Joshua Renalia decided to go with the concept of a digital camera. It's one of the few things he recalled from Wikipedia, in a little bit more detail than the other articles. _All because Dad's a photography nut. _The strategy was simple, but first he needed to one piece of information.

Luckily the silence was still up and as awkward as ever. "I have a question for people here," he said. "Do you know how your eyes work?"

"Our eyes?" Terrador repeated. "Is this important?"

Joshua frowned. "Yes. _Believe me_, it is. So do you know or not?"

"What do you mean?"

He resisted the urge to groan or facepalm. "You're seeing me right now, correct? You can see me with your eyes?" Joshua waited for a nod. It came. "Great, but have _any _of you considered **how** vision exactly happens?"

Silence.

"I'll take that as a no."

Okay, that established the baseline. _All right, Joshua. Time to give video game characters a basic lesson in biology_. _Try not to f*ck this up._

"I'll keep this short and sweet," he began. "All eyes—mine, Volteer's, Cynder's, Kilat's, my rhynoc guard, that random cheetah over there—all of them take in light, in the exact way they are arranged." He gestured to several places in the Audience Chamber. "Where I'm sitting. Where the stairs are. Where the Court's observing me. What the colors are. How bright the place is." He clenched his right fist as if to compress the air within it and proceeded to cram it into his eyes. "Our eyes take in all that so hundreds of little nerves inside can _process_ the light, its colors, and its arrangement into a form of energy and transmit them straight into our heads. Do you understand me?"

Volteer pushed him. "Yes, affirmative, it seems simple enough. Go on." If it wasn't for the fascination in his eyes and the way he focused his entire attention on Joshua, he might have thought Volteer as uninterested in the knowledge he was dispensing here. Hopefully everyone else was giving him the same attention the Guardian was.

_Time to blow your minds, motherf*ckers_.

"Because of our isolation and our relentless drive to invent and test stuff, human society has gotten to the point where it can _make_ artificial eyes. They capture light the exact way our real eyes can. We even invented a machine that transforms this into _electric_ signals and sends the whole thing to an _electricity-powered_ monitor so it can be translated back—

"What is a 'monitor'?" came the question.

A brief description of the monitor and its use led Volteer to dub it a "scrying glass" for the sake of this discussion. Meh. Whatever floated his boat.

"Current versions of the artificial eyes," he continued, "can process **hundreds** of images in a second. My people went as far as creating a variant of the machine that processes _sound _instead of light. Naturally, we combined the two together. In my home, we called this device a digital camera. It is common in my society. I had one myself, folks."

Volteer took a while to respond to that. "No, something like that cannot exist. It cannot. It's… it's not possible."

Another from the audience attacked him with another question. But this time, it came from one of the Observers—from one of the Councilors, actually. A bear, clothed in expensive-looking robes. "Excuse me, but _assuming _this 'long-distance scrying glass' does exist, shouldn't it be a rarity in your society, rather than a commodity?"

"If it was gigantic and made of rare materials, sure why not? But our cameras are small and made of simple stuff. Glass, steel, that sort of thing. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys can make some of your own if you dedicated some research into—

"Enough!" Cyril rose to his feet. He snarled at Joshua. "This is preposterous. Your species cannot make 'artificial eyes' or these 'cameras'. I want proof. **More** proof!"

"Fine!" Joshua snapped at him. He moved up a stair, his posture defiant and challenging. "You want proof? I'll _give_ you proof." He scoured through memories of all the times he played _The Legend of Spyro_. He made sure to pick moments the obstinate Guardian would remember. Joshua told him about the way Spyro found him in Tall Plains long ago. He described the space he was found in, the position of his body, even the exact appearance of the Stone Sentinel. Terrador's case was even better. He was the only one found awake, in a cave, in the center of an active volcano crater whose surface was covered with metal and train tracks.

By the time Cyril conceded defeat, he was already going over that time the four Guardians escorted Spyro and Cynder through the ruins of Old Warfang, providing details like only a person who had been there could. "You win," finally said the Ice Guardian. "I hate to admit it, but you win, Joshua. I cannot dispute it."

Someone suddenly exclaimed, "**NO!**" The voice thundered the chamber, drawing attention from everyone in the room. Joshua's eyes widened at the sight of Cynder stepping back, her mouth agape. She lifted a paw to cover her muzzle, only to accidentally stumble and fall on her back.

Cynder did not pick herself up. "You mean, people… h-hundreds, _t-t-thousands_ of people out there… they, t-they know about me?" The dragoness curled in on herself, quivering. "They've seen what I've done? Heard every word I said? Witnessed everything I did?" Tears started flowing. Her voice cracked. "**Everything**? All, a-all of it, without exception?"

"Cynder!" Spyro flew to her side, his instincts kicking in. He soared to his mate and was beside her in a wingbeat. He stood there for her. He buried all their differences—set aside whatever conflict they might have had from their divergent opinions on Joshua, and bent over her, mumbling things even Joshua's augmented hearing couldn't pick up. In one automatic movement, the black dragoness plunged her snout into his shoulder and wrapped a forepaw and a wing around him. The human could hear her sobbing.

"Ancestors," groused the Purple Dragon. He glared at Joshua. "I understand keeping a low profile, but sticking your snouts into our lives? You humans are **sick**."

Meanwhile, Kilat kept her thoughts to herself. The expression on her face saddened him. It looked like she was about to cry. Everyone else were either stupefied or disconcerted. The entire audience chamber burst into loud murmuring. Guardians and Councilors alike spoke with each other, debating what this could mean, trying to come to terms with what Joshua thought they assumed to be a massive invasion of privacy.

He heard Terrador speak over the din, to directly address the gamer. "Joshua, I _must_ ask. Can you tell us anything about the military arsenal possessed by your species?"

The teenager paled. Terry was thinking of war assets now? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, **shit**. What should he do? Should he go on ahead and let them know about humanity's "weapons of mass destruction"? About the existence of firearms, military vehicles, and the extent to which they were developed? Oh f*ck, should he tell them about _fighter planes_, stealth bombers, orbital satellites, and all those things? God-f*cking son of a bitch, man! What the hell should he do now? Sure, all he had to offer was abstract information or "common knowledge" at best, sprinkled with some inspiration from Activision's _Call of Duty:_ _Modern Warfare_. But Jesus Christ, if he told them all, what were the consequences? How would they react?

Forget that shit. How would that information impact **his** standing in Warfang? And **his **plans of going home?

Joshua's poker face was beginning to break, but fortunately another voice interrupted the Earth Guardian before he could demand his answer. "That's not the question you should be asking, Terrador." At once he turned and saw a white dragoness, standing in a corner of the Observers' Box. A corner he hadn't paid attention to until now.

The gamer recognized her and her pulse of life at a single glance. She was that Wind Dragon who tried to snatch Kilat away from him, when the Guardians led the attack during that incident at the Gates.

"Oh really, Skydancer?"

She raised her voice and, in effect, stopped all the noisy murmuring. Even Cynder ceased sobbing, though she refused to get up and rejoin the other Observers. "Perform a little extrapolation in your head. You'll easily conclude Joshua's answer would simply shatter common sense **again**. To put it another way, any question about humanity's military power is pointless, given the reason we're having this discussion to begin with."

"Do you have anything better for our guest, then?"

She smirked. "In fact, I do." Oh hell no! The gamer did **not** like the way it looked on her snout. Skydancer turned to him. "Human," she inquired. "**If** your species knew what was happening to the Realms, **why** didn't they do anything? The way I see it, there would've been so much less deaths during the War had humanity intervened. If we were aware of your existence, we wouldn't have _misclassified_ you as an Ape subspecies when you showed up at Warfang's doorstep."

.

.

.

"O, R, Z, F, M, L," Joshua grouched under his breath.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

And another snip down! Okay, let's see… what's next? There's a long list of snips to pick from (including "Background Check 2"), and I haven't introduced any of the submitted OCs yet. XD Decisions, decisions…

Again, suggestions are welcome. Just send me a PM. Oh and as a reminder, if you want me to feature one of your OCs, feel free to PM me for a discussion.

All right. Proceeding to replies to reviews:

**LunarWalker:** Thanks, bud. I hope I won't disappoint as the story progresses. See you in the next chapter!

**Edmonton58:** I checked out the story and went straight to the relevant chapter. It's a great story, btw, so thank you for giving me something to add to my reading list. Anyway, though Joshua's Element shares some characteristics with Wither's Nothing Element, it's not really _the _same.

The Nothing Element is basically Mikan Sakura's Nullification power in _Gakuen Alice_, plus a few more features that make it more dangerous than plain vanilla nullification as Wither can enter a "Void" world at any given time and travel through it. Yes, Joshua shares the potential of Element cancellation and absorption with Wither plus his ability to utilize the dark crystals, but that's probably the extent of their similarities. Joshua's Element can do more than that.

**Zero: ***sigh* I give up.

**Djax80:** Best be patient then. I'll probably take my time getting to the point where things will start shaking up. Sure, _Aimless_ has just entered the "slice of life" territory, but I still want some sense of order here, so I have prerequisite snips for specific chapters I want to put out there. For example, the mega arc that involves your OC requires at least three _separate_ snips, two of them being snips that introduce other readers' OCs.

**Server lock:** That's true. At least that's why I'm not putting on the stamp of approval right out the gate when people PM me their OC. I actually reply back with a questionnaire that I want filled out, followed by discussions over how they fit the storyline.

And dude, a "tongue bath" can also be considered perverted if the context isn't identified. XD I pity Joshua though. It's kind of terrible if that's the only way you can get yourself properly cleaned up.

**Bizzleb:** Nice seeing you here again, biz! It's going to be a while before I get going on another "mega arc", so the story should slow down to something easier to read. Doesn't mean I won't be nurturing the seeds I've planted during the previous arc. XD

Expect more pop culture references. But they only come out when Joshua's the principal POV. I'll probably have to lighten up on his viewpoint after the next couple of snips or so.

Same here. It would never feel like home for me. I mean, sure, I can get used to it, but I'll _still_ reminisce every now and then. Thankfully, I have some real life experience for me to draw upon when I get to those snips. I had to live for six years in the United States, after all. Still… right now I'm missing the USA, yet when I was living there I was also missing my homeland too. Isn't that just hilarious?

I felt it had to be Volteer, as Joshua is **his** responsibility. Joshua's way of thinking _and_ speaking is causing some communication trouble for everyone, but I attribute that to a difference in culture and Volteer recognizes it. He tries to meet Joshua half-way but… well, it's kinda weird coming from him. LOL

I think Spyro would sympathize with Joshua if he didn't have the Unknown Element on him. They might be already friends by this point in the story. Oh well. Life just sucks sometimes.

Oh, just wait 'til Glorified Peon 2. That'll be fun.

**GhostChris:** Standing out and being different. That's the plan, dude! Spyro and Joshua becoming friends? Hmmm, we'll see. XD

**T.G.S.**: I recommend signing in when you review, so I can directly reply to your feedback. :D But thank you very much for your glowing comments! It fills me with pride… and unfortunately burdens me with the incessant drive to provide well-written material. I can't just half-ass the story just to churn out the chapters. XD

Kudos to you catching the reference with Cave Johnson and his lemons. XD We got another Joshua-oriented chapter for this update, so hope you can catch _all_ the pop culture references I'll put in here.

I googled it too, btw. Hilarious.

**Koal:** It'll probably work well, now that Joshua has displayed pretty good behavior over the week he's been in the Temple. Word should travel fast. Whether he can endure the job though… well, that's a different story.

**Anon1:** In the first place, I'm not making him out to be a "hero" (yet). XD So for the moment, he's gotta adjust.

**Anon2**: He'll get to control his Element better. Eventually. Somehow. I don't know when. He'll never be able to control it past a certain point, though. I can't imagine him achieving it. Maybe if he was my other OC… then again, it wouldn't be the same story.

**Folwod: **Sorry, dude. Can't make him stop cursing. I **did** tell you Joshua's personality is based on a real person's, and the consistent profanity is a trademark of that person. (He also happens to be named "Joshua" too, although he doesn't share surnames with my OC. "Renalia" is a few letters different from his maiden name, I will admit that. XD)

I haven't seen the real-life Joshua since graduation, but after ten years—give or take—I'm very certain he outgrew that phase. He's got a respectable job, according to Facebook… but I don't think he remembers me anymore. We weren't exactly **that** close, back in the day.

**InfamousVenous:** Thank you very much for the comment, dude! Very welcome. I'm glad the degree of realism and believability in _Aimless_ has attracted your attention and is the reason for you sticking it out with me until this chapter. It's not going to be all crap though. XD I think the last snip and this one demonstrates that quite well.

**4Dragons:** Welcome to the story, Deedee! I wish some of the other forum peeps would review my fic, but many of them have—unfortunately—graduated from reading _Spyro _fanfiction. There are others who still write, but iRL or other pursuits probably prevent them from reading. Oh well.

Anyway, thank you for the feedback.

Regarding my quirks to my style. First, the overuse of italics and bold signify cadence or intonation mid-speech. I know these are normally left to the imagination in most works (even actual original works), but I'd rather get my point across, so to speak.

Subversion of the classic genre. After discussing things with you, I agree that _deconstruction_ is a better label.


	22. (Settling In) (5D) Background Check End

**Author's Note:**

Space reserved for any pre-chapter author's note. Nothing to see here.

* * *

**Settling In**

**Chapter 22: Background Check [Final]**

"_I'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell."_

\- _Five Finger Death Punch_

* * *

Joshua fumbled over Skydancer's question.

F*ck her.

F*ck that question.

F*ck that question to hell.

F*ck Skydancer and that f*cking question to hell and back and _hell again_! That damn f*cking c**t! All the bullshit he'd been feeding the Court could be unraveled by that one single question. Cynder would be pissed at him for lying under oath, for sure. But what else could he say?

"_Okay guys, you got me. I've been lying this whole time! Truth is, y'all were never real to us, at any point. That's right, folks! You're all fictional! Characters made by a guy called Ted Price and reinvented by some f*cking pro artist on Deviantart! All for a f*cking VIDEO GAME: an interactive story, where I got to control Spyro, control Cynder, and make 'em do all those cool things they did during the War!"_

Yeah… that would go sooooooo well with these people.

If Joshua had to be honest with himself, he **really** didn't want to see what would happen if he confessed. The truth would destroy their common sense. It would seize it, pin it down, kick it in the nuts, and teabag the shit out of it hundreds and hundreds of times before pummeling the living crap out of it. Seriously.

The closest analogy Joshua could think of was… well, if some bastard in glasses magically appeared and told him he was a main character in an ongoing _Spyro_ story being posted on FFN. If that actually happened—right here, right now, in this f*cking room—he would totally go ballistic.

Because, one, it meant the author of his life was one f*cking hell of a prick, putting him through all that bullshit at the Gates instead of… instead of just going through with the motions of the typical "human fic" on the archives. Gary Stu, furry harem, worshipping, all that stuff he remembered from FFN's dark side.

And because, two, that would mean—_hypothetically_, of course—everything he knew was false. A fake. A complete, utter illusion, imagined by some loser living in his parents' basement. Kilat didn't exist. Spyro and Cynder didn't exist. Hell, **he** didn't exist. And if that was the case…

Jesus Christ, he'd be just like Deadpool! He would know about the Fourth Wall, know he existed solely for other people's amusement. But Joshua simply didn't possess Wade Wilson's strength, or his fortitude. Instead of having fun and pulling off crazy stuff without a care, he would crumple, like…

Like…

Ah. Like Agent Smith, from the _Matrix_ movies. That guy? When he discovered _his _truth after Neo decoupled him from the System, he went insane. Like batshit-crazy insane. Despair turned the self-conscious AI into a nihilist, bent on manufacturing the annihilation of man and machines alike.

Joshua didn't want to know how the Dragon Realms would react to this news. To him, that was a box he would never, ever, ever, **ever** open. He'd rather look like a fool than reveal the truth. And that was assuming he could prove it.

So f*ck Skydancer. Joshua hoped she would choke on her food or something later. "Goddammit," he grumbled. _I knew I missed something with those lies_. Joshua sent a prayer to the Lord Almighty, begging for his poker face to stay intact and convincing. He trained his gaze on the Earth Guardian. "Hey, guys? Terrador? Can we take a short break? I've been talking for a while now, and after that shouting match with ice-cold Gromble over there"—oh, Cyril was **not** amused—"I'm thirsty, and a little tired."

Luckily, Terrador didn't seem to mind. "No problem", he said. "We'll also get you something to drink." He raised his snout and declared a break, suspending all official activities. After making his announcement, he called a guards to come over. Presumably to fetch the human whatever's needed to quench his thirst.

All right, that's step one. Next, to extend his time some more. He glanced at the Electric dragon-child. Kilat's life signature, he noticed, had shrunk, its rotation much slower than usual. He looked at her face. He felt sad, seeing the sadness on her muzzle. _Oh man._ "Kilat," he called. "Kilat. Kilat!"

The dragoness's ears perked at the sixth call of her name. She looked towards Joshua. "…Yeah?"

"Meet me at that corner over there, will you?"

Kilat did not refuse the request. She clambered over the divider and leaped down. Joshua noticed the child's slow ambling as she walked to him. Her head drooped, her only wing wilted. That boundless energy he saw in her was gone. Was she thinking about his bullshit? Damn it, he needed to talk to her about this.

But, business first. He knelt down and draggled Kilat closer. "Would you… uhm, would you mind washing my face a little? I, I think I'll be needing it."

A wash meant seven to ten sweeps of the tongue, vertically across the entire face. It also meant two or three prods at the corner of the eyes, with the very same. All in all, a disgusting affair. Given the rancid odor of dragon saliva and its sickeningly gluey feel, a "wash" was something Joshua Renalia would never, _ever_, **EVER** consider on a normal day.

And Kilat knew this. "I thought you don't like it when I clean you?"

He forced himself to smile. _Think of a happy place, dude. Gotta think of a happy place. _Joshua channeled a wonderful memory of a night spent with his girlfriend. He prayed his smile appeared as genuine as it could possibly be. "I don't, but, well… this is one of those rare times **I** think I need a good washing."

She tilted her head. "Hmmmmmmm, why?"

"There's a very, **very** compelling reason for me to"—he almost gagged—"look and feel good right now. Trust me on this."

Buying as much time as possible so he could come up with more crap sounded compelling enough.

"Okie," Kilat said. She smiled at him, but it felt somewhat hollow. It wasn't as curved or wide or animated as her usual, chirpy self. The little girl moved closer. He sat down just as she put her paws on his shoulders. He placed his right arm around her, to keep the dragoness steady. "Hold still," Kilat instructed, seconds before she started.

It went terribly, naturally. What else could he ever expect from a facial wash given by a _dragon_? Her breath reeked like the foul, sewage-ridden canals of Brazil or the Philippines, marinating every drop of spit that clung to his skin. The experience could not even be compared to the fond memory of a pet Labrador licking him out of love. Not when every sweep of her tongue reminded him of the time his childhood bully blew his runny nose into a handkerchief and proceeded to rub, lather, or otherwise smear the sticky goo on his face while his two goons restrained him on the pavement, in full view of his classmates.

In the first few days he'd known Kilat, Joshua had hoped he could get used to being "washed" like this on a regular basis. But shit, it's been several days now. Almost a week. Maybe two, and for the love of God, it was something he **never** acclimated to. He started to think he wasn't going to get over this, no matter how much he wished. Hopefully the day Joshua started bathing _her_ would never come. That would be just f*cking gross—

Joshua scolded himself. He shouldn't go there now. He needed to concoct some bullshit answer to Skydancer's question, the reason he was suffering this Christ-damned facial wash to begin with! F*cking albino c**t. As far as the human was concerned, that Wind Dragon can go to _hell_.

He reviewed the question. So why **didn't** humanity come swooping in from the skies? Why didn't they rush to the Realms' aid while Malefor, the Grublins, and the Apes waged war against the known world, and _dominate_ Spyro's corrupt predecessor in an awesome display of overwhelming might and near-omniscience?

He already established the need for discretion and stealth in his story. He gave some attention to the point about mankind seeking sentient life outside _their_ known world with explorers—autonomous machines with computers, diagnostic software, and communications relays, actually, but he'd rather not go down that rabbit hole. As the saying went, the devil lived within the details.

There was the brief mention of the humans' wariness of meeting sentient life out there. That was the truth, Joshua believed. Didn't Stephen Hawking warn the world a few years ago that First Contact with aliens would lead mankind down a path analogous to Christopher Columbus' discovery of America? A path soaked in the blood and tears of dead natives?

Hmmmmm…. Maybe he should go a bit further into humanity's genetic ancestry with primates and apes? That way he could rationalize their absence as a fear of mistaken identity? He could even use himself as an example! Didn't those bastards at the Eastern Gates attacked him simply because he (barely) _resembled_ an Ape?

It sounded like a good idea. Definitely a direction to—waaait a minute.

Wait, wait, wait, wait… _No, Joshua._ _You can't do that._ Bad idea. Terrible idea. Terrible, **terrible** idea. A lot of people in this city already called him a furless ape, one of the Guardians included among 'em! And didn't he see an Ape with a human-ish face on the day he met Kilat? Surely Warfang was already aware of these "variants", long before Joshua's sudden appearance in this world.

If he went off-tangent with humankind's shared biological roots with the apes of his home world, what would stop Warfang from banishing him? Wouldn't the majority of people _forever _see him as a dangerous enemy with catastrophic potential? A bomb waiting to go off? That should be sent away as early as possible?

If his audience today was similar to the kind of people who ran his home country, they were probably—they were _most likely_ corrupt. Willfully stupid, maybe. Joshua Renalia couldn't afford the risk of being misunderstood or worse, losing the few allies he had.

Duh, duh-duh. Welp. That's one idea down the drain. What's next?

Human paranoia and the tendency to shoot first and ask questions later? Nope. Obviously not! Terrador already asked about his species' war assets and should Joshua say anything _related_ to it and its use…

Argh. No. Just, just **no**.

_C'mon, man. There's got to be something. Dude, it's time to whip out your inner Jimmy Neutron and think. Think. Thiiiiiiink— _

Joshua's concentration broke the instant Kilat started prodding his left eye. _Repeatedly_. "GAH!"

Some stupid f*cking piece of dirt or whatever got stuck or something and now she's—goddammit, she's using her tongue to pry his eye open. Joshua shuddered. Eww, eww, eew!

No. No, no, no, no. F*ck! She's getting too close to his nose. The gamer suppressed the natural urge to push her away. To whine, to grumble at her like usual. He forced his gag reflex down and struggled to endure her nasty halitosis. "Murr…!" So what if the Court was too busy yammering amongst themselves about his latest bullshit? So what if they couldn't pay attention to the way he carried himself? Joshua didn't want to disgrace himself any more than he already had, not after trolling Spyro for the hell of it and being called out on it in public.

"Joshua," Kilat pleaded. "Please, stay still. I'm almost done."

From Kilat's point of view, the wash went totally fine. To Joshua, it felt like forever. To her? Joshua would've bet a dollar or two that she hadn't even noticed how much time she had spent ensuring his face received the proper "care" and "attention" she felt it deserved.

The teenager welcomed the glorious moment Kilat concluded her task. Any residual disgust lingering within Joshua's mind vanished when the child seized the opportunity to embrace her older, adoptive brother.

"Joshua?" she spoke. She enunciated his name in a slightly higher pitch than usual. Her voice was light. It felt uncertain.

The gamer responded by grunting.

"Did your people see it too? Everything?" She sniffled. "What, w-what happened before? With my parents and Cynder and—and, and, and…"

He had to say something. The thought of Kilat fumbling over all four of her paws with a horror-stricken expression identical to Cynder's frightened him.

Joshua Renalia hugged the child. He wiped his lips on the sleeve of his tunic, then assured her, "I don't think we did." He paused. "Think about it. My kind wanted to keep humanity's existence a secret from you guys. Do you think we'd send _many _people out here?"

"N-no…"

"Do you think our explorers would just point their cameras wherever and whenever they could, all the time?"

Kilat fidgeted. "Errrr…"

"While the War was going on with Spyro, Cynder, Gaul, the Eternal Night, and all those other things?"

"I guess, I, I-I-I, I guess," She stuttered. "Uhmm, uuhhhhhh…"

_Yeah, go on. Go on, girl. Let it aaaalll sink in._

"…No?" Kilat finally offered. He didn't see the sheepish, embarrassed smile on her muzzle. But even he could sense the dragoness's uneasiness. Still disconcerted, despite his reassurance.

"I…" Joshua hesitated to call her out. He didn't have much time to begin with. This was better off discussed in the privacy of their "room". But if he kicked the can on this now, chances were high—very high—he would find himself unprepared when they resumed the hearing. Joshua couldn't—he had to focus—he needed to concentrate…

…No. F*ck them all. He didn't want their relationship to change. He needed her so much more. "I, you don't really believe me, do you?"

The silence spoke for her.

"We don't know everything." He kept his voice down. "Because we couldn't keep an eye on everything. There weren't that many explorers to begin with, and those cameras are precious, precious records of the world out here. It takes hours of precision work for an _expert _to calibrate a camera for the kind of things that I've seen and heard, and they had to take them back to our side of the world to view the contents. I promise you, I didn't know anything about Mungo Volpe until I met you. I didn't know how Warfang looked like after the War. I actually believed the Apes all died off after the Dark Master fell. And Christ, I don't even know how your parents died."

Joshua's composure very nearly cracked, as he fed this poor child white lies. One after another. He wanted to tell her the truth, if not now then later, in their room. Yet the bullshit wouldn't stop. It kept coming out, even as he finally felt confident enough to open his eyes and gaze at those cobalt seas. The human pinched her lip and stroked the side of her snout. He could see his little sister in her. "Doesn't any of that mean anything to you? The people who told our explorers where to go and what to record only cared about things that would go down in _your _history for generations. Even if they wanted to, they wouldn't tell the few people out here to risk their lives just to see someone burn down one more village of refugees."

"But Joshua," she bleated. "Y-your—o-o-other humans still… They still…"

"I can't change that. I couldn't have done anything about it, even if I wanted to. I'm only a few years older than you. By human standards, I'm still a kid. Just, like, _you_. On top of that, my family was never in government to begin with, so I wouldn't have a say in how my people did their thing out here anyway." Joshua leaned forward. He kissed her on the forehead. "But trust me, if I could, I would've helped you and your family. I would've helped the people here."

The dragoness gaped stupidly at him. Indecision shimmered in her eyes. Her jaw fell ajar, and Joshua sensed the tumult storming within. _Please_, he prayed. _Please, please, please, don't… don't reject me._ Her scales glinted in the light as she squirmed, she fidgeted. Her wing spread itself a little. Spyro raised his voice—to him, to her, or to someone else, he didn't know—yet the fanboy couldn't bring himself to care. He tuned out his favorite video game hero and zeroed in on the child's eyes again—he _drowned_ in them, lost himself in that diffident gaze, waiting. Waiting for a reply. A word, an action, _anything_.

Anything that clearly demonstrated Kilat's opinion of him. What little skill Joshua gained from the scant usage of the Unknown Element tempted him to extend his ego boundaries and dive in. To plunge into her pulse of life—her very _soul _and feel what she was feeling, make sense of the emotions crashing into each other. The thought itself appalled him.

Yet…

If the little girl rejected him, if she judged him for the perceived sins of his species… Joshua didn't know what he would do. _I… I-I, I can't even—_

Then Kilat dove at him, the dear reptile nuzzling his chest.

Joshua Renalia had no idea what to say. It was one of those rare moments he found himself speechless at such an endearing gesture. Instinct moved him to respond with an embrace of his own. His smile widened when he realized his left arm rose a little, in a futile attempt to correct the one-armed hug. _Crisis averted. Thank f*cking God._ Someone must be watching him up there!

He saw a rhynoc approach him. Joshua's eyes lingered on the thick robe it donned. Stitched on it was the circle of the four Elements. An image identifiable by any TLoS fan worth their mettle. But with the clothing sporting an otherwise bland design and neutral earthen hues, the teenager figured this was one of the Temple's employed servants. An unbelievable fact, considering Joshua knew them as enemies in _Spyro: Year of the Dragon_.

If it wasn't already obvious, seeing how this rhynoc had the water he requested.

Water.

Oh shit. That was one reminder he did not need right now. Hopefully he still had some time left to make up convincing bullshit for a solid defense. That wind dragoness had hurled one of the toughest questions he had to face, and when he asked for a short break, everyone felt disappointed at the delay. Their pulses of life indicated such. Joshua couldn't afford to disappoint them the next time he spoke.

He took the empty cup as soon as the rhynoc servant presented it to him. Joshua voiced his appreciation as soon as he began pouring water into it. "Thank you. I really needed something to drink." He took a sip. "This hearing's been—

Joshua nearly choked from the crushing pressure suddenly radiating from the Purple Dragon. "_That's_ why?" he cried. "That's **why** you didn't help?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I don't like repeating myself."

Spyro snarled. He scared Kilat into curling in on Joshua, shivering madly. What—who was pissing him off so much? He turned to the Observers' Box. There, the Wind Dragoness-bitch faced down the Legendary Savior, who pawed closer to her. His posture as menacing as his growls. "I heard you clearly the first time, Skydancer." Joshua never heard anyone say a name with such disgust and disdain until today, not even on Earth. "You didn't do anything because it wasn't your business. You all knew—you all _saw _what was happening on the ground—to _other dragons_—and Ancestors, you all did nothing! **Nothing**! When the Apes started taking other sky islands, you still did nothing! Weren't you even the least bit afraid of losing your empire during the War?"

"Of course not," Skydancer snorted. Joshua was stunned. She had just dismissed the prospect as if it was nonexistent to begin with. "The Dark Master was never a threat. Skylands can become _nothing_ in the blink of an eye, and it is impossible to conquer nothing."

While Joshua found himself perplexed by the statement, Spyro noted her confidence—her arrogance and flared his wings. "Then you could have provided shelter! You could have approached Ignitus months before the Apes raided the old Temple. So many dragons could've been saved. All those eggs could've been saved!" His pulse of life quaked. Emotions spun around inside, turbulently spiraling into themselves. Joshua identified anger, disbelief, and—holy shit, was that _grief_? "Cynder and I, we, I, I-I…"

Then his vivid, purple scales turned _dark_. Joshua gasped. He clenched his fists. A fear he had not felt since his admission into Warfang's borders flickered in his heart. But it lasted only a moment. For Spyro quickly caught himself and, with a deep breath, exhaled. He literally sighed his anger away. His life signature had gone still, the sphere no longer swirling, turned small and warm and blue—a simmering melancholy. It seemed nobody noticed the change in him. Joshua did not even see the white glow fading away from his own hands.

"I think your Empress could've done so much good," Spyro finally said. "If she intervened."

"I wouldn't be so naïve to presume that, _my Savior_." Skydancer's words felt sarcastic. She stood on her haunches and sent down a patronizing gaze. "Purple Dragon or not, the world does not work the way you think it does and it never will." Then the bitch turned to Joshua, her ashen snout all smug. "Isn't that right, Joshua Renalia? Skylands was not the only one that stayed away from the War. Youhumans could've changed everything, too. But you did nothing. Just like us."

Damn her! Joshua wished he could lash out from his spot. The urge to deny her compelled him to stand and give the white dragoness a defiant glare. _We're nothing like you!_ He wanted to say. _We would've found a way to help!_ Even if his homeland refused to help the dragons, had the United States of America existed in this world, they surely would've done something. They were the world's policemen. The Grand Mediator, always butting its nose into each and every atrocity and act of oppression by other nations worldwide, and, he believed, always for the betterment of humanity.

The human did not get a chance to talk.

"Order," thundered Terrador. "Order!" Joshua sensed the Guardian's power saturate the cut, granite stones and, for an instant, infuse its essence into the very foundations of the Warfang Temple. The structure itself shook. It shuddered, releasing a raucous grumble that left many unsuspecting members of the Court off-balanced, but also stupefied Spyro, Skydancer, and Joshua in one swoop.

Terrador scolded, "Spyro, we are **not** here to discuss Skylands' foreign policy or quarrel with one of their envoys."

"Yes, Terrador." Spyro bowed his head in shame.

"_Master_ Terrador," Cyril interjected. "Do not forget, you still have a lot to learn from all of us."

The Earth Guardian nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Now follow proper decorum. Speak out of order one more time, and we **will** cast you out." At the words, Terrador threw a mean frown at Spyro. Joshua looked through him and saw the reluctance hiding deep within his pulse of life. Dude, he was _good_. "Do you understand me?"

The Purple Dragon took longer than expected to reply. "I understand, Master Terrador."

He glared at the Wind Dragoness. "Skydancer, the disrespect you've shown to Spyro andJoshua reflects _poorly_ on your character. Stop it. I don't care if we are on break. Remember, you are here on **our** diplomatic goodwill."

Skydancer stiffened. Her life signature shrunk, responding to her fear of the implications. She bowed. "Yes, Master Terrador. I have your neck."

"You better," He nodded. "Do you have anything else to say?" Terrador's eyes darted at Joshua. "If not, we can resume the hearing. Joshua appears ready."

"One last thing," She said. Silence permitting her the floor, "Spyro, I know how strongly you feel about the Empress and the choices she took during the War. As her envoy, you are welcome to approach me for dialogue any time." Her dark blue eyes twinkled. "_Provided _you are accompanied by one of the Guardians."

The Purple Dragon scowled at her, before returning to his mate. (Shit, Cynder looked like a sniveling mess.) "Count on it."

_And here we go again._

Terrador wasted no time getting into it. He reiterated the objective of this hearing, that the three of them—the Guardians—arranged this thing to investigate Joshua's background and learn more about the human species. One nod of the jaw at Volteer, and the Electric Guardian straightened and rehashed the key points discovered before the short break.

Volteer being the scholar that he was, he spent another three minutes or so on his review. His comments were neutral. Humanity could change the dynamics of the Realms forever. They could further science and technology, improve Warfang's economy, and increase population diversity, in one fell swoop. "They are like slipstreams, leading to the horizon. Who knows what will happen if we let them carry our wings? The potential benefits of cooperation are unquantifiable!"

Just as Volteer began explaining the 'long-distance scrying glass', Cyril interrupted him. They presented enormous risk, he said. Joshua's narrative had the Court believe humanity spied on them for years and years.

"Their military power must be formidable," the Ice Guardian hypothesized, "if they can create something like that." He glared at the only human in the room. "I suspect Joshua cannot help us there. He does not feel like someone who holds a position equivalent to Councilors or Guardians."

Terrador sprung from this point. "Even so, we must rely on him. Joshua **is** human, hatched and reared. While it is impossible for us to gleam anything specific from him, we can at least expect just enough to profile the landscape."

Another round of nods from Volteer and Cyril. The Councilors said nothing. Cynder… Cynder wasn't in the Observers' Box. Joshua saw the black dragoness walking away, surreptitiously vacating the room. A glowing dragonfly trailed right behind her, his furtive glances directed at his brother.

Spyro nodded at Sparx. Other than that, he and Skydancer were equally silent.

"Joshua?"

"I'm coming." He rubbed Kilat's head. "Head back to the Observers' Box," he whispered to her. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay." The child nuzzled his cheek and obeyed him without fuss.

Joshua chugged whatever remained in the cup. He steeled himself as he approached the stone steps and faced the Guardians sitting high on their pedestals. There was no doubt in the gamer's mind that he had to lie again. He locked eyes with Spyro. If he had to sway someone in this room, it must be him, personal feelings be damned.

Cyril addressed him, "We've waited long enough. Why didn't the human species intervene when our worlds were under threat of being torn asunder by Malefor and the Destroyer? Speaking in my professional capacity as an esteemed Guardian of the Realms, you furless apes had so little to lose and so much to gain. I admit reading the ebbs and flows of the world's airstreams is not my strength, but even I can see the Realms would have been a much better place had you cast off the shell of anonymity and joined us during our darkest years."

"Master Cyril," Joshua said. "Sir." Oh, look at him beam. His ego must have ballooned some more after the simple formality. "I'm sorry to say this—I'm really, _really_ sorry, and I hope you can forgive me—

The Ice Dragon destroyed his momentum. "Answer me, human. Stop stalling for time and answer **us**! Uncertainty obfuscates your people's nature and only your response can clear this fog."

Joshua blanked. Oh shit. Without warning, the words in his mind absconded. They were still there, he knew, somewhere beyond his reach. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh f*cking shit!_ His attention rushed inward, seeking his memory for the arguments that were certainly there. The lookup stubbornly resisted him, unable to make sense of the disorganized crapton of information and ideas.

"Uhm, uhhh, errr…"

_C'mon, man, c'mon, you gotta remember! F*cking Cyril, interrupting me like that_. Joshua chased after the lost train. What was he about to say? Why did he qualify it with apologies? Was it something that had the greatest chance of swaying Spyro? Was it something that would offend the three Guardians as a group? The Warfang Council? Or was it something that would infuriate the snooty, egotistical narcissist in front of him?

"Well?" Cyril interrupted him. He growled. "What is your answer?" He scoffed. "Do you even have one? We gave you a long enough break. By now, even the Ancestors' hatchlings would have started soaring in the skies."

"How about no?"

The Guardian bared his teeth. "_No_? You damned Ape, you're not in a position to—

"I mean you're wrong!" Joshua cut him off. _Finally retrieved it_. He strengthened his mental grip; he couldn't afford stuttering now. "You don't know anything about my people! Jesus Christ, dude, humans **still** had too much to lose. We couldn't do anything to help you even if we wanted to. It would've been too costly!"

Economics.

That was the answer.

Economics was the answer he was looking for.

Economics solved everything.

Joshua didn't like resorting to such an… such an _adult_ word. Grown-ups threw this shit around like it somehow justified humanity's concupiscence, explained the duality of good and evil on Earth, and condemned human pragmatism as ruthless and manipulative. Right now he didn't have much of a choice, since the Earth he remembered leaving behind was an Earth caught in a crisis of its own making.

An inconvenient truth, behind the glory of Western capitalism.

"Too costly?" Cyril uttered, dumbfounded. "We were on the eve of extinction! If Spyro and Cynder hadn't returned to us in time, the Realms as we know it would've been completely destroyed! Your reluctance is no less inexcusable and abhorrent than abstinence."

"No, it's not! Didn't you hear me earlier? My people don't know about you guys. Those who do, they keep it secret or are discredited so much nobody would ever believe them! If I had some coin to place bets with, I would wager the vast majority of humanity **still** thinks they're the only intelligent life around here."

Play the isolation card. Follow it up with an oversight cantrip, and toss out some culture as the finishing blow.

"They don't know a f*cking thing! Rabbits, cheetahs, moles, bears… where I lived, none of them walk and talk the way they do here. We don't have gnorcs. We don't have rhynocs. We don't have dragons or magic or all that other shit! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, I keep telling y'all, humans are so far away that—

A rumble from Terrador quieted him. "We have maps of the known world in our possession. All fifteen revisions in the Temple Library. Volteer, please call in Councilor Kaufer. You know he always keeps the latest copy on his person." The dragon locked eyes with Joshua as he rose to his feet and descended the giant stairs with authority. "Let's put this matter to rest once and for all."

_F*ck me. This is juuuuuust great._

"Kaufer," Volteer yelled. "Councilor Kaufer! Come here. We need your immediate assistance and succor."

A bear broke off from the crowds. A well-dressed grizzly bear. Its glossy robes were familiar, a beautiful combination of royal blue and a most regal purple. Emphasizing the silver tips on its lush brown fur, the clothing must have been as expensive as they appeared. Epiphany struck Joshua. _Oh my god. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Could he—_

"Clear skies," interrupted the anthropomorphic mammal. A male voice. He then gave a quick bow. The phrase and apparent genuflection befuddled Joshua. Silence hung between him and the Councilor. Uhhh, was he supposed to say something?

The bear shook his head and sighed. "You were supposed to say 'steady winds'. Then again," he said, with a condescending glimmer in his eyes, "in the midst of my customary welcome I forgot you are a foreigner, flapping about like fish out of water."

Joshua didn't like this guy.

"No matter," spoke the bear dismissively. (Yeah, he _really _didn't like this guy.) Furry paws brushed down his robes as though it was dirty. "Salutations, hoo-man. I am Spinel Kaufer, Councilor of Finance and Industry. I am very pleased to meet you."

To Joshua's surprise, the Councilor raised his paw. Holy shit, he shook hands as a greeting! Oh man, it felt _so _nostalgic. Hell, the gamer was so familiar with the greeting that Joshua's hand _automatically _clasped the tendered paw and gave it a firm squeeze. "Nice to meet you too," flowed his unconscious words.

Spinel blinked. "My, this is a delightful surprise. I never expected another species to share my people's customs. Even your response—

"_Ehem_," Terrador cleared his throat. "Sorry to cut the pleasantries short, Moneybags, but Joshua needs to see your map."

It **was** Moneybags! Joshua totally called it. Goddammit, the conniving bastard of a bear filching Classic Spyro in every single f*cking game since _Ripto's Rage_? He's **here**? In true Warfang?

Damn. This was not something he expected.

Joshua's poker face cracked a little, but Terrador's closeness was an easy, if not _blatant_, reminder of his present situation.

"Of course, Master Terrador," said the Councilor. "I hope you realize, I don't go by that name anymore." Dude, he even had the British accent from the games! **WHAT THE F*CK**.

Terrador laughed. It was deafening, coming from him. "Aaahhh, Forgive me," he said. "Old names tend to fly a little longer than they should."

The old bear fished into a pouch he carried with him. "I stepped down as Guildmaster of Gilded Wings a few months ago, after I was appointed Councilor." Joshua saw how full it was. He caught a few glimpses of denominated, gem-studded coins and folded documents as Spinel—as _Moneybags_ dug into the paperwork for a few more seconds.

"A few months, you say? Hmm, that is not enough time for ancient dragons like myself, Kaufer."

The bear frowned. "I already reminded—Ah!" His round, furry muzzle lit up. "Found it." He clutched a thick piece of parchment in his hands, folded multiple times over itself. "The full map of the Dragon Realms," he said, prideful. "_Nineteenth_ revision, second copy. Illustrated just this morning."

_Nineteenth? Heh, looks like Terrador doesn't keep tabs of everything going on here._

Terrador recovered quickly. "Kaufer, spread it out on the floor," he instructed. "Joshua, come over here. Do you recognize anything?"

Moneybags—no, there's no way in hell he would use his other name, whatever the f*ck that was—held the tip of the parchment in his dexterous fingers. It glowed. Two smooth whipping motions later undid the folds. He moved with fluid precision, with a practiced grace, to lay down the huge map in one act. Before Joshua knew it, he found himself eyeing a monstrosity no smaller than a fifty square foot, well, _square_. Five paces in length and width, Warfang's map was what Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III's map would have looked like if he wasn't incrementally clipping sheets of paper and guided his pencil with colorful aesthetics, not function, in mind.

It had an ornate design lining the edge of the entire document. Closer scrutiny yielded the crude image of an Eastern dragon gnawing its tail. Art reminiscent of lattices—or better, Henna patterns—lined the outer border, while symbols of all the Elements known to dragonkind formed an inner border. Not only did the human find it beautiful, but Joshua also recognized a paltry total of five. Fire, Lightning, Ice, Earth, and Convexity. (Æther sounded too clichéd. _Sorry, Jared._)

There were four land masses depicted on the map. Four continents. Three were Brobdingnagian in size. Joshua wouldn't have recognized Warfang if it wasn't close to the center of one continent and he wasn't already familiar with the official TLoS map—it made it so much easier to identify the coastal line of the great bay at the south side of the walls. The _Gulf of Dragons_, they called it. Fitting, considering Warfang had long been labeled "City of Dragons".

Eyes drifted up, down, up, and over the entirety of the main continent. Some of its names were known to him. The floating islands of Tall Plains, to the northwest. The crystal ridges of Concurrent Skies, far north. To the southwest of Warfang, across the calm seas of Aequus Belt, was the Volcanic Island Munitions Forge. Farther south still were the raging waves of Tempest Deeps, but the map ended there. Joshua found a frozen land southeast of Munitions Forge. Whoever made the maps called a small part of it Dante's Freezer. Beyond it, the land suddenly ended as though some divine entity cropped out the rest and replaced it with an ocean. White Abyss. A portentous name.

Centering his gaze again on Warfang, he moved his eyes eastward. He saw the Dry Canyon, bifurcating Summer Forest and Sunburst Woods. _So that's where I woke up_, mused Joshua Renalia. He made a mental note to revisit the place after regaining his freedom. It may hold a few clues to his journey home. It was huge though. Three times larger than Summer Forest. Knowing his luck, he would be there for several days. _Hopefully by then I'll have a few friends willing to join me._

He looked eastward. Sunburst Woods became the Blackstone Pass. It led to the Blackstone Mountains, a mountain range that dwarfed Sunburst Woods and held the fortress city Aldozira deep within. Joshua found something familiar about the name. He ran it twice in his head. _Aldozira._ It was strange. The name failed to register anything he knew about the _Spyro_ games, or pop culture for that matter. Did he hear it before?

Beyond Castle Shadowstone, the easternmost tip of this continent—far beyond it, was the Skylands Empire. A floating **continent**. The map went as far as documenting the six thousand wingspans that separated Skylands from the Empty Sea directly beneath. Six thousand. Joshua could not even fathom the distance. How did that translate to the metric system? Fifty kilometers? Sixty? Seventy? Maybe more?

Joshua Renalia kept ogling the map. Not all the continents were as fleshed out as he expected. There were large swathes of hollow, unfilled areas, suggesting more exploration was required. Still, just looking at the map accentuated the reality of his situation. He was nowhere near home. He was not on a parallel world. He was not on an alternate Earth. He was on a different _planet_ entirely, one he was beginning to think was _significantly_ larger in mass than Earth itself. Joshua's breathing started to quicken. Water gathered in his eyes. He didn't realize he had clasped a hand over his mouth until Terrador nudged him with a knuckle.

"Joshua? Did you hear me?"

"H-huh?" the human stammered. "W-w-what? Did you say something?"

The Guardian grumbled. "Does anything there look familiar to you?"

Joshua focused on the World Map again. Unconsciously, he shook his head. The other two continents were land masses. Neither resembled anything from his Earth. One looked like a gargantuan rectangle—like the map of Westeros—and the other would've made Joshua laugh, if he wasn't already disconcerted by the unsettling miasma in his thoughts. To the right of Skylands, the last continent on the Dragon Realms had a phallic shape to it. If that was not God flipping the bird at him, he didn't know what else to say. It **really** looked like a massive middle finger.

"Money—

The Councilor of Finance and Industry glowered, straightening his back, scowling, and looking ever like the hulky bear he actually was. Moneybags could be intimidating. Who knew?

Joshua coughed. "Councilor, do the borders on the map mean anything?"

Moneybags dismissed his scowl in an instant and supplied, "Yes, yes, they do. They simply indicate that explorers of the Dragon Realms have not found anything beyond this point. The environment close to these borders are either calamitous in nature or as endless as it is lifeless. Both, absolutely devastating for any expedition."

"…I don't see the White Isle here."

"That's because it has not been discovered."

"But Spyro—

"By Spyro's account, it lies past the southern border, deep within the storms of Tempest Deeps. But the White Isle is also a place of myth and legend. Spyro is also just one dragon—a Purple Dragon at that."

"So?"

"So we cannot discount the possibility that the Chronicler's domain exists outside this reality and beyond the reach of any normal person in the Realms."

Joshua Renalia could not hide the crestfallen tone in his voice. "Then that's that," his reply concluded. "None of it's familiar to me. As a matter of fact, human geographers identified six continents in _my_ world map."

"…Did you just say six continents?" Moneybags bowled over.

"Yes. Africa, America, Antarctica, Asia, Australia, and Europe."

Terrador regarded Joshua. His sphere of life rippled with an emotion he never sensed in Terrador before. "None of those are familiar to me."

Moneybags stared at the young man. He felt uneasy. "Then that means…"

"As you deduced, Joshua hails beyond the borders of the known world, so his reasons are undeniably true." He rose, then bowed to the well-dressed bear. "Thank you, Mo—Councilor Kaufer. Please clean this up and return to the Observers' Box."

He beamed at the dragon's self-correction. "You are most welcome, Master Terrador." Joshua cringed; it sounded so patronizing to him. Jesus, he prayed that wasn't his bias acting up. Moneybags went to one corner of the giant map. He noticed the document glowing just as the bear began folding it up.

"Joshua," commanded the Earth Guardian. "Return to your place. I will pass my findings to the Court and we will proceed with the hearing."

Passing his findings did not take long. Terrador went back to his pedestal and engaged in "quiet" discussions with Volteer and Cyril. Quiet in the sense only Joshua's augmented hearing enabled him to follow their private deliberation. Equally, murmuring occurred the moment Moneybags returned to the Observers' Box. Naturally, the other Councilors pounced on him and sought information.

Another two or three minutes lapsed. The foundations of the audience chamber trembled at Terrador's power, signifying that deliberations have ended. Terrador announced Joshua had been honest with his response. Then he tossed out the political bombshell of his origins outside Warfang's maps. Volteer then reminded everyone the significance of this, as there were good reasons why nobody had gone past the borders before. Joshua Renalia was living proof of life in the Realms beyond, the Electric Guardian emphasized. It was such a shame Joshua could not remember how he got there.

Recalcitrant, Cyril remained an asshole to the very end. "I must admit, Joshua's origins are remarkable and fascinating, and there is much to learn about his side of the world. Nonetheless," he fought, "these details _fail_ to explain anything about human behavior in general. For all I know—for all **we** know, those furless apes are just like the people of Skylands. Even if they had economic methods of travel to our side of the Dragon Realms, they wouldn't stick their necks out to help those in dire need of aid. They would have shied away from the War, just like them."

"Dude, no!" Joshua pushed back. "Just no! Some humans would have helped you anyway. We can't stand it if we know horrible things are taking place on the other side of the world when we can actually do something about it! There's no f*cking way in **hell **we'd **ever **let shit like that happen unchallenged, every step of the way."

"Some? Not all?"

Oh f*ck! Cyril _had_ to have caught it. Ugh, he had to explain this part, too?

"How do I say this?" Joshua scratched his head. "I, I'm not going to lie. There are many humans who start fights or kill others over trivial stuff. Like skin color, looks, religion… even toys! They endanger nature or other people just to take what they want. They shirk responsibility or compassion when it's inconvenient, when it's difficult, when there's nothing in it for them. A lot of humans are as selfish and apathetic and violent as you think they are, and these are the same people who will never lend you guys any help unless it benefits them.

But at the same time, there are many humans—just as many as the shitbags—who will look past all those things and accept people for who they are, not how they look like, not whether they believe in their ancestors or a higher power, and definitely not what species they are. _These_ humans would do everything they can to protect nature or cooperate with others. They will accept responsibility and perform it for everyone's benefit no matter the personal cost. Sure, these humans can be messy, awkward, but these are people who want to assist the small and the helpless and for sure they would have helped you unconditionally during the War, without hesitation."

Volteer exclaimed, "That doesn't make any sense!" He shook his head back and forth, mind working in a flurry to comprehend what he just said. "You're telling us humans are equally selfish and selfless, equally merciless and kindhearted, and equally disgraceful and honorable. I cannot possibly envisage, imagine, picture your species getting anything done—let alone electricity-powered, long-distance scrying glasses—when the description you just provided leaves me with the impression humankind would waste as much time and effort fighting each other over insignificant, meaningless, unimportant, trifling subjects as you would over affairs of substantial, world-changing value."

Joshua whistled. "And thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's humanity for you, Volteer. It doesn't make any sense to me either, but at the very least, our leaders are generally people who managed to find a delicate balance between both sides on every contested problem, big or small. I don't know what else to tell you."

The Electric Guardian had such a baffled expression on his muzzle it appeared his brain got stuck trying to process this reality. Spyro, on the other hand, looked like he was deep in thought.

Eventually someone had to break the heavy silence. "Volteer, would you consider," Terrador postured, "the possibility that humankind is a species of contradiction as much as it is a species of invention?"

"I—I'm not—Well—err… Perhaps. But I think this… this warrants, needs, requires, entails further investigation, research, sociological analysis," he stammered. "The descriptors you propounded are illogical to me. I cannot reconcile them—

"Thank you, but that is fine for now. We will revisit matters of profiling and classification later. More importantly"—the acting leader of the Guardians brought his intent gaze down upon Joshua—"I have a simple question for our human guest."

"...Yes?"

"If we ever encounter more people of your kind, what do you think is the best way we can establish a friendly relationship with them?"

He should've expected this by now, Joshua thought. Terrador displayed a consistent focus on the reality before him. He did not get lost in the particulars of taxonomy or achievements. He did not dwell on irrelevant details. So far he had been addressing Joshua from the perspective of a servant leader. Of a just leader, concerned with both the safety and welfare of his people and the lofty ideals of justice and fairness. Joshua wouldn't be surprised if Ignitus read this entry in Terrador's book with a wide and proud smile.

"That won't be too hard. I actually think it's simple. _Ridiculously_ simple," Joshua answered him. "See, humans are a naturally curious species. We are attracted to new things. We crave new experiences. We would try things—do things we've never done before. Our curiosity is so strong, it could override our fear of the unknown. There's no doubt in my mind you'd win over thousands of people if you showed off the good stuff you guys have to offer. I mean, I haven't even been here for a week and what little I've seen of your culture is so different, so _weird_, that I think it's really interesting! If I wasn't stuck in my room, I'd be out there exploring the city."

"And if that doesn't work, you can always appeal to our greed instead and trade with us. There's bound to be something we'll trade our tech for. Economics _never_ fails. It drives almost every advancement in human society."

Joshua observed Moneybags smirking at that. _Figures. That's right up your alley, isn't it?_

"I see," Terrador nodded. His brows relaxed, and lips unfolded a little. "That information will certainly be useful." The Earth Guardian paused, gaze panning across the audience chamber. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"No, not at all. Unless you want me to talk about myself, personally?"

"That won't be necessary, Joshua. It's irrelevant to this hearing."

The gamer bowed his head, "Thank you, Terrador." He glanced at Spyro. "I'm sorry for the disrespect I've shown to this Court."

Cyril snapped at him, "Just make sure it does not happen again the next time we bring you to this chamber."

Terrador added, his voice stern and authoritative. "You're not required to adhere to our standards of formality, but _at least_ show some respect. We demand it."

"Understood."

The foundations once again quaked in the wake of his power. "Everyone!" declared Terrador. "This hearing is adjourned. Except for Spyro, my fellow Guardians, and Councilors Kaufer and Tuconsis, you are all free to go."

As soon as he pronounced the hearing over, the stillness in the air shattered. All the Warfang Councilors, save for Moneybags and a scarred gnorc, rose from their seats (or haunches, if they were dragons) erupted into whispers and murmurs even as they grouped up among their own friends and departed the audience chamber using either the public exit behind him or the private hallway beside the Observers' Box.

Despite Joshua's enhanced hearing, his attention span—his focus could only catch so much. Still, what little he discerned from the noise confirmed his win, his victory. He won his self-imposed challenge; the Councilors took everything he said like a duck to water, hook, line, and sinker. His mix of truth and lies satisfied their curiosity, but not to the extent they could put two and two together and divine the truth. Many of them launched speculations at each other, trying to forecast—to project the sweeping changes the integration of humankind would surely bring into the known world…

If it happened at all, that was.

Having seen the world map for himself, Joshua figured the Court knew any attempt at bridging the gap between the Realms and humanity's side of the world was a long shot. Only the gamer knew how long the long shot was, and boy, it was depressing to think about it. _Let's not head that way, shall we?_

Volteer stepped off his pedestal and leaned over to the nearest guard. He whispered, "Go fetch Cynder and Sparx."

Unlike Joshua, the twin rhynoc guards assigned to him did not hear a thing. They moved to flank the human as they have done when they picked him up from his little room. Kilat, while free to live anywhere in the Temple, vaulted off the railing and strolled over to join them. They smiled at each other, but Joshua felt her sphere of life shivering as she approached. It was sad, realizing the divide his "revelations" wrought between the two of them. With a silent prayer to God Almighty, Joshua hoped this rift wouldn't widen more going forward.

"Terrador! Master Terrador!" Skydancer trotted towards the stone stairs. She gave the departing human a fleeting glance.

"What is it, Skydancer?"

"Am I dismissed too? I want to join the post-hearing evaluation." Joshua felt a ripple in her signature, and it showed in her submissive tone. "Your assessment on humanity—

"Warfang's affairs are none of your business," Cyril shut her down. "Know your place, foreigner."

"I hope you remember my _position_, Gromble." Oh God. He shouldn't have called Cyril that. Damn it. Joshua felt the old dragon staring at his back as his small entourage reached the public exit.

Volteer proposed, "Cyril, I suggest we let her stay. The Sky Empress would throw a fit if she felt we mistreated or humiliated her senior envoy."

"She brought that upon herself! This, t-this Sky_lander_ insulted Spyro and disparaged the dignity of our Court. I will not stand for it!"

"Terrador, what are your thoughts, judgments, outlooks, opinions, views on this matter?"

Now out of earshot, Joshua never got a chance to hear the Earth Guardian's reply.

The public hallway consisted of a long, partially open colonnade that ran across the side of the Warfang Temple for a few hundred meters (by Joshua's best estimate) before the path split. The open side of the colonnade granted a beautiful view not only of the botanic gardens and the training grounds but also some of the luxurious villas that surrounded the great hill on which the Temple was built.

Joshua knelt and swept Kilat off her paws, causing her to yelp. He hugged the dragoness, tracing tiny circles on her pawpads. "Joshua, warn me next time, okay?" She whined. "You keep forgetting…"

"Sorry, Kilat," he apologized. He leaned forward and found comfort in her lavender scent. "It's just that, that… it was hard for me." He rubbed the back of her head with his nose and directed a forlorn gaze at the City of Dragons.

Kilat creaked her head up and returned the gesture. He felt contentment in her sphere of life. "Me too," she said, after a pause.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Joshua stopped when the path finally broke off in two. One direction descended the Temple further, leading down to the city below. The other went inward, into the bedrock. The living floors were in that direction.

Joshua walked over to the top of the steps. Aware of his two silent "babysitters", he did not dare take the first step down. From his vantage point, he observed the resident dragons loitering far below, spending time however they wished. Some were playing with each other. Some were practicing their mastery over their respective Elements. A few were in isolated corners, nuzzling each other like the lovers they probably were. Closer scrutiny would have revealed the guards keeping the peace and order.

"Still," Joshua muttered, "I suppose... that didn't go as bad as I thought it would. Nobody tried to kill me back there, and it doesn't seem like they hate me after, after all that."

Kilat giggled, "Heehee, don't worry! I don't know about other humans, but I do know **you**. Sooner or later they'll see you the way I do: a wonderful brother."

The adolescent smiled. "You make an awesome sister, you know that?"

"I do." Her wing drooped slightly. "...Lani once told me the same thing, a long time ago."

Kilat's answer haunted Joshua for days.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

And _Background Check _is over. Another snip down! Coming up next… definitely will be something short and lighthearted. :D

So about this snip. Originally, I intended for Joshua to delve into humanity's arsenal of weapons. But as I wrote the snip, I began thinking about the feasibility of him even bringing it up, and the plan became less realistic the more I wrote. I mean, think about it, our military technology is unparalleled. Our weapons can devastate entire landscapes. We have stuff that can penetrate the toughest armors. We have technology that don't even _need_ to pierce armor or inflict open wounds to kill people (hello radiation, acoustics, and microwaves!). I was going to use it to follow-up with the culture of contradiction/compromise thing and add another reason _why_ meeting possibly xenophobic humans would be so dangerous to whoever's part of the expedition.

Still, I guess the way this snip turned out was appropriate.

On that note, the ending went a little differently. I wanted to cut it off right as Joshua exited the audience chamber. He would've said "I guess that wasn't so bad" and that was it. But… ehh… it was nice to throw in a little bit of bonding, to show how strong their surrogate-sibling relationship was.

Anyway… moving on.

Any snip or other suggestions are welcome. Just send me a PM. Again, if you want me to feature one of your OCs, feel free to PM me for a discussion. If it passes initial screening, I'll have you fill out a template for further screening and deliberation. Don't feel bad if I end up denying an application just because I couldn't find a use for the OC. It happens.

Proceeding to replies to reviews from the last chapter:

**Zero (guest)**: Dude, I like how you increase my review count, but I'd really appreciate it if you could write something more substantial. The authors of all the other stories you're probably leaving reviews for would be grateful too. :D

**Wretched Abyss**: I went with "bullshit his way out of it". I hope my performance this chapter was convincing enough for you.

**TheKingofGames1001**: One's an emoji, the other's an acronym. orz is the small letters version of OTL. While FML is, well, "f*ck my life".

**InfamousVenous**: How's that for believability? Even if they make him draw all six or seven continents on Earth, there's no way they'll recognize it, and yet the level of detail he can give about all of them (courtesy of a globalized, internet-driven world) will compel them to believe him. XD

And so the truth remains hidden… but for how long? :P

**Draykat**: Yes, it will! The next snip or two will take place _before_ Background Check and Glorified Peon. I have many more that take place after it. Actually, that reminds me, I'll have to start organizing my snips in (1) chronological order and (2) publishing order. XD

**Merecor**: At least they're reasonably long, but not so much. I don't even have to worry about pacing anymore since I can just jump around like it's usually done in the Loops.

**Jason (guest)**: Oh no! No, he can't do that! They would _freak out_ more about humanity itself, _especially_ if he tells them what they're capable of, as you implied. Although I wonder if you noticed that little bit of Fourth Wall breaking there, where Joshua mused a little bit about the super-tiny possibility (lol) that he's just a character in a story on FFN. XD

**Bizzleb**: Oh, hey Bizzle! Glad to see you hear from you once again. Guess you're here to stay huh?

Anyway, this trial was a long time coming. This is really the first out of several, but we won't be seeing all of them. I don't want the story getting bogged down by unnecessary things. Still, you're right. Joshua just couldn't resist being a troll that time.

Joshua got out of this just fine actually. Background Check #1 and #2 take place before Glorified Peon #1. Still, the journey is better than the destination so it's all good. Plus, people are interested in seeing how he gets himself out of this shithole he dug for himself.

Kilat's battery of questions during the first story arc actually gave Joshua the idea that a fantastic but believable lie is so much better than an uneasy or insane truth. Doesn't exactly win him any favors, but the firefighting required is probably more manageable.

So what ideas do you have for Joshua? What would you have said?

Thanks again, dude. Hope to see you again for this chapter.

**Djax80**: He went with "lying through his ass". XD

**GhostChris**: And what did you think of this then?

**Br2nd66**: Not surprised. There aren't many good "human fic" stories for the Spyro fandom to begin with, and there are a ton of 'em to sort through. Still, I am happy you found this.

**Server Lock**: My story isn't so popular that I'd need to run a poll for the OC submission. I may have thought differently if I was getting something like 50 to 100 signedreviews per update, but I'm already satisfied with my current performance (which is currently at 400% of my other serialized fic). Don't worry though – I don't just accept submissions at face value.

**Folwod**: It's fine, dude. I'm glad that you had time to write feedback anyway. Much appreciated. :D

**Baton793 (guest)**: It's not lulz anymore? ….ugh I feel so old.


	23. (City Life) (3D) Boop!

**Author's Note:**

I've been going over the stats for _Aimless_. And let me just say… wow. Just… wow. I never expected this story to get to this point.

Twenty-two chapters in, past the second story arc, with over 30,000 views and _two hundred _reviews! This has far exceeded anything my other fic has ever accomplished. For a "Trapped in TV Land" type of fic, that sort of performance is just amazing.

I am truly, truly grateful to you all for not only helping _Aimless_ get to this point but also motivating me to start taking this project more seriously than when I first started it last March. _Aimless_ has so many more chapters ahead of it, and I do not doubt that you readers have placed a variety of expectations on this project's value as a source of entertainment. So whether you are looking for a deconstruction of the stereotypical "human fic", a well-developed post-DotD, a good portrayal of SpyCy, an immersive read, or just something different, I will do my best not to disappoint.

Anyway, in the wake of Donald Trump's landslide victory on November 8th, a fact that inspired both anti-Trump protests as well as rampant bigotry against minorities in the US, I'm giving you guys something more lighthearted to enjoy. I hope y'all like it.

Disclaimer – Seriphos is owned by Riverstyxx, who gave me permission to use this OC. He is featured in her stories "Residual Darkness" and "Tears of an Oracle".

* * *

**City Life – Threads of Gold**

**Chapter 23: Boop!**

"_Time is a game played beautifully by children."_

_\- Heraclitus_

* * *

Every dragon in the Realms had something to say about the Apes.

Sometimes the Apes were called belligerent. Sometimes they were called unclean. Oftentimes they were simply savage—a species of heartless, sadistic beasts that gleefully murdered dragons for no reason aside from sport.

Over the decades, Seriphos heard these assertions again and again, in hundreds of variations. None were flattering; many painted the Apes in an evil and horrific light. Justifiably so, when one thought of the hundreds—the thousands of dragons, young and old, butchered in the wars long past. As a matter of fact, multiple times he had witnessed the Apes' brutality up close. Years ago he himself experienced the agony they could inflict on an innocent soul firsthand, when they brutally murdered his parents and the only dragoness he ever called a sister.

Seriphos almost wept when he first learned how many died trying to protect the city he loved from the furless ape. He lost several friends that day, people he knew long before he became a Dragon Knight. Sudden losses, all of them. If it weren't for the Guardians' direct commands, he would have attacked the furless ape the instant he saw him defile the pristine cleanliness of the Temple with his brown, dirty feet. There were no words to describe the astonishment and outrage he felt when they ordered the furless ape—that _monster_—detained indefinitely inside the Temple. In an unused residential room of all places! On the fourth level, too! Ancestors, why didn't they just execute the damned thing?

Thankfully Terrador ensured the furless ape lived under tough, uncomfortable security protocols. Four guards were to secure the prisoner at almost all times, one of whom _had_ to be an earth dragon—a dragon with enough skill and experience to encase a target within solid rock in a split-second. The job entailed full nine-hour shifts, with rotation occurring every three hours on an individual basis. He needed twelve people for this unenviable task.

Azeroth the Infinite bless his soul! Clearly his old mentor lived up to his reputation for pragmatism. Even if the guards couldn't kill or maim or torture the furless ape, any escape attempt would swiftly and painfully end in his capture. As soon as Terrador outlined the details, Seriphos volunteered for a position on the fly. Being an earth dragon _and_ an accomplished Dragon Knight, he was more than qualified for it.

Seriphos flew at the job with enthusiasm and passion lifting his wings. Once the Ape was blindfolded, he pulled the damnable creature by the chains. He stumbled, tripped, and fell multiple times along the way, but Seriphos and his three colleagues did not care for his trouble or his incomprehensible profanity. They _dragged_ him across the stone tiles when he couldn't keep up. Shoving the blood-soaked adolescent into his room felt incredibly satisfying.

When the four of them slid the door shut and took their places around it, Seriphos braced for action. He'd done guard duty before, back in his old settlement or during his assignments near the border. An Ape always did something. Prisoners would always leap at the doors and screech. They would swear revenge, shake the knobs, shake the bars, and swipe at the nearest thing hoping to draw a little blood. Insane savages, prone to violence. That's what they all were. This Joshua was no different—he had massacred tens of people before he was brought here. A Guardian Candidate had died protecting Warfang from him. For sure the furless ape would do something the moment they released him. The temptation was there—his door did not really have any locks.

At that moment, if someone asked Seriphos what he thought of the furless ape, the Dragon Knight would have called him dangerous. Too dangerous to be left alone where he was, even with four guards watching over him. He would have called him cunning. A sly, crafty little bug who wouldn't hesitate to kill them all and escape the moment they grew too complacent.

But if Seriphos was asked the same question three days later, there would only be one word coming out of his mouth…

Different.

.

.

.

Through Seriphos' entire career in service of the Guardians, Joshua was the most docile and well-mannered Ape he had ever guarded. After they shoved him inside, the primate did not open the unlocked door for hours. He did not vandalize or ruin the fixtures in his room. He did not yell, he did not shout, he did not scream for their blood. The furless ape even _thanked them_ whenever they brought him food and drink, all arranged on a tray served by Copeland, the only leopard on this team. The first time this happened, Seriphos wondered if there was something wrong with his earholes.

The furless ape _did_ open the door himself during the first night. The halls were dark, dimly illuminated by glowing crystals infused with the element of Fire. The guards were all half-asleep, their determination to stay awake and protect Warfang from this hairless menace replaced with monotonous boredom. With nothing to see except empty corridors artificially illuminated with crystals, unused rooms long shut with sliding doors covered in thick, grey films of dust, and a lavatorium filled with a disgustingly acerbic stench, even Seriphos succumbed to this like any other. Any prisoner would have taken this chance to slip away into the shadows. From past experience, any Ape would have welcomed this perfect opportunity to kill a dragon or two.

But not the furless ape, no. Seriphos couldn't recall how long the deadly monster they were supposed to keep inside the room had been poking his legs, his shoulders, until he finally drew the full, undivided attention of the only dragon guarding him. And for what? Someone to _accompany_ him so he wouldn't get lost finding the lavatorium and making his way **back**.

That was one of the most un-apelike things he had ever seen from an Ape. From **anyone** held under indefinite detention, now that he looked back at it. Such behavior opposed every stereotype, every belief the Dragon Knight held for this ugly, furless primate.

A few hours later, the little girl who arrived with Joshua stood in front of them. He did not know how she found the room, but there she was, demanding to be with the furless ape. By then, the airstreams have long resonated with her renown as a child prodigy. An electric dragoness whose raw talent with her Element exceeded even the Purple Dragon's. Not desiring another big incident, they gave in to Kilat's… passionate request and let her in. "Just don't cause any trouble, Tiny Wing," Seriphos cautioned her. "I do not want to regret this."

The little girl surprised him with a hug, her forepaws and only wing wrapping awkwardly around one of his legs. "Thanks! I promise you won't." She practically bounced, skipped, and hopped all the way into the room, almost as though the prisoner inside was her hatchday present.

Seriphos did not completely close the door behind her. The Dragon Knight kept a watchful eye on Kilat. He refused to believe a sweet child like her actually cared for this furless ape and still sought out signs that she'd been enthralled, bewitched by some unknown spell or artifact to break her master out. Although his worries turned out to be a huge waste of time and energy by the time Cynder herself arrived the next morning and—to everyone's surprise—gave the child prodigy her permission to come and go as she pleased, more doubts sprung up from the observations he made that night.

Kilat dashed to the furless ape the moment she saw him and knocked him down. Seriphos then watched her lick and nuzzle the primate's face. She rubbed herself against his body, marked Joshua with her scent, and clung to him like he was the most important person in her life. He saw the love in Kilat's eyes, and he knew it was the real thing. He used to see the same eyes before, in his parents, whenever they looked down at the carefree boy he'd been decades ago. A young Earth dragon oblivious to the trials, hardships, and rewards waiting for him in the long flight ahead. Seriphos found it difficult to process the relief and happiness on Joshua's face, even more so when he kissed the child prodigy on the forehead and nuzzled her in return.

For all the wisdom, all the life experience he gained during his long life, Seriphos could not pinpoint the _exact moment_ he started viewing the furless ape in another light. The other Apes simply never did any of those things, let alone shower a dragon with love and respect and receive that same unconditional love in return.

More than once he wondered if they actually _had_ the right person. Was this adolescent really the one who killed a Guardian Candidate and brought one of their Saviors to the brink of death? When Cynder appeared for a visit, his body language indicated nothing but adoration for the Savior, and the concerned tone in his voice when he asked about her mate's condition was completely sincere. Was he truly and honestly responsible for everyone who died that day? Or did the entire city of Warfang peg him wrongly?

"Hey."

"Hey!"

"Hey, listen!"

"…huh? Kilat, what do you want?"

Morning.

Third day since the furless ape's incarceration in this room.

Seriphos arrived early for his shift. The wind dragon he relieved looked excited to get out and go stretch his wings. As he left he murmured how cramped the hallway was, almost claustrophobic. The silence was driving him mad; all the gnorcs who guarded Joshua took their jobs so seriously they never spoke at all. Seriphos shook his head. Why the apprentice volunteered for this task in the first place was beyond him. He knew what this job required coming in. If he couldn't take it after just _three nights_, then he might as well go back to one of the Guardians and discuss his resignation. A life in Warfang couldn't stamp out the eccentricities of a dragon hatched and reared in Skylands, it seemed.

The Dragon Knight walked over to his spot next to the sliding door. As per routine, he slid it open—just a little bit—to watch Joshua and Kilat inside. Despite the doubts wrestling each other in his head… despite Cynder herself being lenient—extremely lenient, if she ever asked for his opinion—towards the two, he could not bring himself to trust them both. His desire to place even the slightest bit of faith paled in comparison to decades of experience and discipline. Fortunately, nobody minded his vigilance. Either their charges didn't care for it or they thought it was just the way Seriphos did his job.

He took a peek.

The furless ape sat cross-legged, back reclined on one of the walls. His eyes had glazed over into a trance, blinking once every couple minutes. He'd been at this strange form of meditation for three days straight now. Seriphos supposed it was an excellent way to pass the time. There was virtually nothing to do or see here. And this deep in the rock, a window simply wasn't available. Seriphos knew he would've gone crazy in his place. At the very least, he and the three other guards had the other eighteen hours of the day to look forward to.

Kilat, apparently, decided to stay. In spite of her freedom, the little girl slept here, spent all day with Joshua. Seriphos never bothered asking the dragoness, but if he had to guess, she was probably there to guard her brother—that's what she called the furless ape the other day—from any harm. It was endearing, and it raised his respect for the little girl. Had the Dragon Knight been thirty years younger, he might have found this act of "guarding the guards" amusing instead.

Her routine mainly consisted of sleeping, at least for the past couple days. She would wake up ahead of Joshua and give herself a bath like any other dragon would. When she was done, she'd start nudging or shoving the furless ape until he woke. Then the two would argue like a pair of prepubescent siblings before Joshua acquiesced and permitted Kilat to bathe him. Joshua always resisted these baths, yet in the end he always gave in to the dragoness.

Seriphos found the whole farce amusing. The furless ape would massage Kilat's entire body while she was at it. He would trace circles or some pattern he couldn't recognize along her shoulders, her wing, her horns, her tail, and the pads of all her paws. The child shuddered at every stroke, obviously enjoying his touch. Didn't Joshua realize this was, in a way, her reward? How stupid of him. Maybe he liked it? If so, he should admit this to himself and start requesting for _longer_ baths instead of wasting time with pointless arguing. The little girl seemed to enjoy grooming him, so she would probably like the idea.

When Kilat finished, she would curl up around Joshua and doze off. Joshua himself would lean back and relax almost immediately after, entering a disturbingly catatonic state of meditation. Together, they would sit quietly for hours and hours, interrupted only by mealtimes and visits to the lavatorium.

"I'm boooooooored!"

Not today though. Doing nothing but sleep for two days in the row made the little girl restless. She needed to get out, stretch her wings—her _wing_, poor girl—and do something outdoors. The skies above Warfang were clear today, portending a nice, wonderful time for anyone out there, in the open.

And the furless ape knew this too. "Then why don't you just get the f*ck out? It's probably nice and sunny out there. A lot of dragons are lounging around. Lucky bastards." Seriphos bristled at the statement. He knew it was true. How would heknow? How _did _he know? "Don't waste your time here. Go out and see what the Temple has to offer." He grumbled, "At least _one of us _is free."

"No way! I'm not leaving you alone in here."

"I won't be alone." He pointed a finger at a surprised Seriphos. Ancestors, he didn't think the prisoner would notice. "Look, he's watching."

"He's one of your _guards_, stupid!" Kilat shoved her horns at Joshua's face. "It's his job to watch us—I mean you! To watch **you**!"

"Maybe, argh, I don't know, m-maybe _for once_ we'll actually have a conversation, while you're out there." He eyed the Dragon Knight, "Isn't that right, uhhhhh, errrm…. What was your name again?"

"It's Seriphos," he humored him.

Joshua paused. He didn't expect to hear him speak. A few seconds passed before he recovered and grinned at the child prodigy. "See, child? I'll be just fine. Seriphos will keep me company."

The Dragon Knight said, "Yes. We will spend my entire shift talking about all my friends you killed."

He grew pale. "Eep!"

Seriphos bared his fangs. "Remember this, _monkey_," he snarled at the ape. "I'm not here to engage in idle conversation, and neither are the others. We are **not** friends and _you_ are an enemyto everything our Saviors fought to protect."

Gibberish shot out of Joshua's mouth in fast, indecipherable stutters. The Dragon Knight ignored them all and sent murderous glares at the adolescent. Later that night, when he returned to his quarters in Talonpoint Keep, Seriphos would look back at this moment and realize he had no reason to entertain the furless ape, let alone reveal his name or his feelings. Why did he speak? He never established any sort of rapport with anyone he guarded.

Kilat stuck her tongue out. "I told you! I tooold yoooouuuu!" She turned around and strolled away, shaking her head. "Ancestors help me, Joshua, are you hoo-mans this stupid sometimes?"

Joshua straightened his back and pouted, "Fine, Kilat! Fine. You are soooooo right. Seriphos and I _won't_ have a conversation. I'm just going to sit here, by myself, and pract—I mean get engrossed in self-reflection. But Jesus **f*cking** Christ, _you're_ the one who's being stupid. Cynder lets you sleep with me! Isn't that enough for you? You're wasting too much time."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Ya-huh."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Ya-huh!"

"NUH-UH!" Kilat blew a dragonfruit.

They glared at each other. Joshua's green eyes were stern, demanding. Like a superior officer demanding obedience from a subordinate, a parent disciplining a child, or… an older brother, simply looking out for family. Seriphos had seen these eyes all his life. Meanwhile, Kilat possessed a piercing stare. It embodied her defiance. It left an impression she would go as far as physical violence to get what she wanted.

Finally, after a long, awkward moment, Joshua Renalia deflated. "Okay," he sighed. "You win."

A grin formed on her muzzle. "Yep," she said. Her posture straightened, all smug and happy. "I always win."

He groaned. "If that's what you really want to do, then go ahead. Stay here. **You're** the one who's bored anyway." The electric dragoness walked over and snuggled against him. Joshua ignored her and crossed his arms. "God, I'm just trying to help you. I mean, you don't have to—you _shouldn't_ be my f*cking shadow…"

They did not talk for at least half an hour after that. Kilat had shut down practically anything the furless ape had to say, so he left her alone and returned to his trance-like meditation. Seriphos went back to his thoughts. The little girl was as stubborn and ignorant as any of the other prepubescents he's seen scampering about the Temple. As amazing, as admirable her loyalty was, the Earth Dragon found her annoying. Had he been in Joshua's place, he would've sent her rolling with a single swipe of his paw, encase her in rock, and give her a yelling she would never forget for months. He did not understand how the furless ape could deal with this sort of thing every day.

Seriphos imagined how life would have been if it was… more _normal_ for him. If he met a beautiful lady he would eventually call his own, and had hatchlings with her. The thought made him chuckle. Ancestors forgive him; he would never have the patience for rearing a child. Seriphos would be a terrible father.

Kilat's voice reached his earholes. He returned to his observations, watching the child prodigy nudge her companion. "Joshua?" she called. She put a paw on his stomach and pushed. No response from him. She clambered on him and sniffed his face. "Jooooshua?" Nuzzled it. "Yoohoo!"

The act broke his trance. "What now?"

She giggled. "Uh, I'm still bored?"

Joshua closed his eyes again. This time, he paid no attention to her. "We talked about this a while ago, Kilat. I'm not repeating myself again. Just go to sleep or whatever."

"But I can't sleep. I just… I just need to do** something**."

He grumbled, "Not my problem. You're the one who wanted to stay."

"You're so mean today," Kilat humphed.

Joshua ignored her. After a minute, the dragoness walked away. Her body coursing with the boundless energy of an electric dragon, she started pacing the room, with her head bowed down. "What to do, what to do, what to do… I don't know what to do…"

Another minute passed before she stopped. She suddenly perked up. Her tail began to wag. "Oooh! I know." She faced the furless ape. Seriphos noticed the mischievous smirk on her snout.

"Hey, Joshua!"

No reply.

"Joshua!"

"Goddammit, Kilat!" He opened his eyes. "I was about to make progress here! What do you—

Kilat smashed into Joshua, her horns colliding with his belly and the soft organs within. "Boop!" she chirped.

"**OW!**" He screamed at her. "The f*ck was _that_ for? I—

She suddenly bit his elbow. It did not go very deep, but from his viewpoint at the door, the Dragon Knight saw a little blood trickling out of the teeth marks. He recognized it for what it was: a love bite.

Joshua recoiled, "Oh my god!" He glowered down at the twitchy dragoness, her wagging tail, and her bright smile. He was fuming. "Damn girl, f*cking biting me like that all of a sudden." He reached down. "What's gotten into you? I ought to—

Kilat jumped away at the last moment…

"What the hell—

…and slammed her horns again, this time hitting his right side. "Boop!" The two of them rolled on the floor for a bit before crashing into the thick cushions they slept on. Kilat stood right on top of him.

"Kilat—

She licked his face. "Got your nose!"

For the first time since they put him in that prison, Joshua _snarled_. "Goddammit, Kilat!" He wrapped his arm around her. Rather, he tried to, for the electric dragoness easily escaped. "You're beginning to piss me off."

"What're you going to do about it then?" She challenged. "Hmmmmm? You can't even catch me."

Joshua wiped her saliva off his face. He rose to his feet. "That's what you think!" he said, before charging her.

The child ghosted his fingers, slipping just underneath it. Almost touching. In one fluid move, she went to the wall, kicked off of it, and landed behind her companion. Immediately, she bit his leg. Another love bite. "Boop!"

"Don't play games with me!" Joshua thrust his hands down. He missed. Kilat stood in the center of the room, quietly waiting for him to notice. He eventually did and realized he was out of reach. She looked as happy as ever. "I swear, when I catch you, I'll smack you so f*cking hard…" He approached from the left, and she reacted with a quick, forward dodge to the right.

It was a feint. "AHA!" Joshua suddenly pivoted and lunged. His right hand—his _only_ working hand was almost upon her golden scales. His fingers brushed against them, and the furless ape seized his prey. "Finally got you, you little—

Sparks of electricity flashed in the room. Kilat blurred and all Joshua caught was an after-image. The child herself appeared on the far side, discharging yellow thunderbolts as she stopped. Kilat stuck her tongue out. "Nya, nyaaa!"

He reacted badly to her taunts. "Grrrrr!" He lunged at her, taking three steps before _leaping_, aspiring to tackle her with just one arm outstretched. She pivoted and blurred into _Volt Tackle_ in a brilliant yellow flash. "Boop!" She reappeared right behind Joshua and struck his posterior with her horns. The furless ape flew _further_ into the air and crashed on the floor harder than he should have. His forearms were scraped, covered with specks of blood.

Kilat landed on his back before he could get up. "You're _terrible _at this game, Joshua." With a giggle, she bit his ear.

"I didn't _want_ to play with you, damn it!"

He tried multiple times.

"Boop!"

"Get back here, you brat!"

But no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't catch her.

"F*ck."

"Boop!"

Kilat dodged his feeble attempts easily. She danced around him. Twisted her body, squirming, contorting to avoid his grasp. Whenever he came close to touching her, she always vanished in a flash of light and electricity.

"Boop!"

The ape developed more dark and purple blemishes on his furless skin the longer this game went on. Teeth marks and puncture wounds appeared everywhere on him: his arms, his legs, his neck, his own face. All the product of love bites and headbutting.

"F*ck."

"Boop!"

Radiant and cheerful, the dragoness had such an innocent, carefree smile. She was enjoying this. Joshua did not. His face had formed a persistent frown. His eyes betrayed his desire for vengeance. The ape's body language shivered from an irritation so great he wanted this done and over with.

Then she shoved her muzzle on his nose. "Got your nose again!"

"F*ck!"

Another failed attempt.

"F*CK!"

This time she caught his entire hand in her mouth. Realizing what that meant, Joshua yelled promptly, "Oh no you don't, _girl_!" He reached for her. "That isn't—oh no, not again—

"Boop!"

"F**********CK!"

Seriphos didn't know what Joshua said, but chances were high it was profanity. Every species had their own curses, their own way of insulting others or expressing frustration and anger. Watching the little girl play with Joshua, the Dragon Knight couldn't help but laugh. Ahhh… Boop. That brought back memories. Every dragon played boop at least once in their lifetime. It was virtually impossible to find someone who had never experienced the joy and rage of this game. Hatchlings, prepubescent drakes, adolescents, and even young adults all played it.

For such a traditional pastime, the rules—simple as they are—were a little foggy. A player said "Boop" every time they poked their target with their muzzle—and historical precedents for all variations of _poking_ had long been recorded in oral history. Seriphos remembered all manners of poking. Players would resort to headbutts, to love bites, to nuzzling, to licking, to paw swipes, to tail whips, to _anything_ really. It simply depended on who were playing the game.

Sometimes a game of boop brought dragons together, strengthened their bonds, their relationships with another. Sometimes the game was used to enhance their combat skills, an improvised method of training for those who had no access to the Temple, its arena, and its training golems. Sometimes it was used to resolve conflicts between two groups, settling heated contests of dominance. As Kilat was demonstrating this very minute, the use of Elements was not forbidden in a game of boop. If the Dragon Knight recalled correctly, the Elements made things much more interesting.

Fire dragons naturally employed the _Comet Dash_ to strengthen their pokes or collapse the distance between one player and another in an instant. Electric dragons had the _Volt Tackle_. It was faster than _Comet Dash_ and carried the potential to stun nearby players for a split second. Ice and Earth dragons could create walls or lock other players in place. Seriphos couldn't recall any instance of a Wind dragon playing the game—pretentiousness and elitism seemed to be a Skylands thing—but he could very well imagine the immigrants as untouchable, capable of blowing other players away or speeding themselves up by several notches.

He peered into the room. Joshua Renalia's mouth heaved profanity after profanity. Beads of liquid had formed on his forehead and arms. Odd. Was that sweat? Did the Apes sweat from their entire bodies? Not their paws, like dragons or felines? The Dragon Knight lifted his paw to his nose. A pungent, cheesy odor wafted into his nostrils. Typical smell. Not too distressing. Very tolerable. Was this why the Apes smelled like they bathed in dung all day? The Apes placed zero value on personal hygiene—a sharp contrast to this furless primate in front of him. Living for years without bathing and reeking of old sweat? No wonder they stunk!

Kilat's tail wagged rapidly. With her butt raised and chest kept low, she looked ready to pounce. The grin on her muzzle spoke volumes for her. Seriphos watched her stage another attack on Joshua, use _Volt Tackle_ to zip past him diagonally, and boop him from behind. The furless ape had apparently figured this out, turning around at the last second to seize the child's body. To her credit, Kilat pivoted on the spot and slapped her tail on his face. "Boop!"

"OH COME ON! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, that wasn't f*cking fair! Don't use your f*cking tail!"

Kilat blew another dragonfruit in reply and went on with the game, unimpeded. Joshua was becoming more agitated by the second, and he had been putting more and more effort into catching her. Seriphos grinned at the agonized expression on his face. The sheer frustration of your target slipping past your claws every time you attacked. The Dragon Knight had experienced this multiple times before, and many of those had been Electric dragons. Pesky things. _Volt Tackle_ was the most hated technique in his heyday, and judging by that grumpy scowl, narrowed eyes, bared teeth, and dilating nostrils, the furless ape looked like he would agree with him.

Behind Seriphos, the noise of steel blades being removed from their scabbards reached his earholes with a pitched _shing_. He turned and saw Copeland and Balagog—a gnorc swordfighter—staring back at him, their eyes glimmering with concern. The two of them trembled, but Copeland did the talking, "Seriphos, what's going on in there? Is the furless ape… is he…?"

He waved a dismissive paw at them. "They're fine," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"But all that yelling—

Seriphos snorted. "The little one started a game of boop inside."

Copeland and Balagog looked at each other. They shrugged. _It's a dragon thing_, their gestures said. They sheathed their weapons and returned to their posts. "Just call us if things get out of hand," said the leopard, obviously disinterested.

The fourth guard on duty, an electric dragon, approached him. Coulombrin was a Dragon Squire, recently promoted up from senior fellowship just a few lunar cycles ago. He looked up to Seriphos, who mentored him when he officially became a Temple apprentice instead of pursuing civilian life outside. It had been his final test, and their relationship echoed what Seriphos had with Terrador. "A dragon's playing Boop with an _ape_? You're pulling my tail!"

"SShhhhh! They'll hear us. And no, I'm not. Come, see for yourself."

Seriphos stepped aside for Coulombrin, who peered into the room. The Dragon Knight watched his muzzle pop open, eyes bulging from hilarity. He resisted the urge to laugh. "Pfffttt, the furless ape's pathetic. He'll never touch her. Ancestors, she's _abusing _Volt Tackle like it's nothing. That move isn't easy to do! How, h-how large are her mana reserves? It's insane. I can't pull that off multiple times in succession without spirit gems in my pouch."

Another few seconds passed. Coulombrin clearly enjoyed the show. "Oh wow, look at her go. This monkey's not giving up at all. What a fool. He's the worst player I've ever seen. My son can boop him multiple times over." The electric dragon jolted back, and turned to Seriphos. "Remember the good old days, Seriphos? You used to be quite the killjoy, always showing up when we least expected it."

He grunted, "Someone had to bring you and Novus in line."

"But he was a bully. You've _always _despised bullies."

"And you were kids with _talent_. Look where you are now, Coulombrin. You're a Dragon Squire in Talonpoint Keep. It took a lot of work getting there, didn't it? Novus left for civilian life after _failing_ his apprenticeship test twice and I haven't heard from him since."

The electric dragon shook his head. "Ancestors, you never change, Seriphos. You'll never get a mate that way."

Seriphos did not answer him. Coulombrin stopped waiting for his reply and returned to the game Kilat and Joshua were playing. "I'm surprised you're letting this go on, though. The old you would shut this down immediately."

"That's because I'm being considerate. As long as they don't take things too far, I am perfectly content with letting them get away with this."

"Are you sure it's not because Lady Cynder and Master Volteer are giving them special treatment?

"I'm a professional. Dragon Knights uphold high standards of competency and objectivity."

"If you say so." He turned to watch the game between Joshua and Kilat. "Wow. The ape's trying to predict where she's landing Volt Tackle." He suppressed his laughter. "And he's failing miserably."

Seriphos guessed the same. He could hear all the cursing coming from inside. Joshua was no longer subtle about it. He yelled and screamed in frustration as though someone stole his favorite toys and crushed them all in front of his face, one by one. The rage in his words were clear. Still, Seriphos had nothing to worry about. The furless ape wasn't _really_ livid at Kilat. He was simply… a sore loser.

"No wonder you're always watching these two. They're entertaining."

"I'd like to say, 'thought-provoking'. The furless ape, his behavior, and the love he's shown for the child so far are giving me plenty to think about."

Coloumbrin nodded, "I can't say I disagree with you. Better than wasting away looking at the same wall all day."

"Boredom is good," Seriphos replied. "If you're bored, that means you're doing your job and you're doing it _well_."

"Eeeeeeehhhhh… easy for you to say. You're—

The telltale flash of Volt Tackle shone from the tiny opening in the door. Instead of being followed by Joshua's cursing and Kilat's teasing, Seriphos and Coulombrin heard a distinguishable **thud** coming from the wall. The Dragon Knight, being a skilled earth dragon himself, felt ripples emanating from the wall, spreading through the bedrock.

Joshua moaned, "Oooowwwwwwwwww….."

"That hurts…!" Kilat followed, likewise.

Okay, _that_ was different. "I'll handle this," Seriphos said to his colleague. His claws found purchase on the sliding door and he slammed the entire thing open. "What is going on in here?" he spoke gruffly, infusing it with the authority of a fearsome Dragon Knight and all the power it implied.

There were no words to describe the scene in front of him. Joshua and Kilat were on the wall. The furless ape had his head pinning down the dragoness's underbelly. "Mmm, nnngggh, ugh!" She grunted as she squeezed out from underneath him and rolled away. In doing so, she also pushed Joshua away and he, too, rolled onto his back. Seriphos did not know what to think about the bleeding forehead, but it corresponded to a red stain on the wall. He was already astonished, seeing the _cracks_ spreading from the point of impact.

"Oh my f*cking god," Joshua groaned, hands clasping his head. "Jesus Christ, someone give me the number of that f*cking truck…"

Kilat took one look at Joshua. Her smile widened and she started prancing. "Ancestors! I didn't know you can do _that_, Joshua!" She jumped around and ran in circles, performing a cute, celebratory dance. "Again, Joshua, again! Do it **again**! C'mon. Do, it, do, it, do, it, do it!"

Coulombrin nudged Seriphos. "You have any idea what just happened?" He gestured at the two with his wing. "Obviously the ape caught the dragoness."

"By some ridiculous luck," concurred the Dragon Knight. "He then hit his head on the wall. But I don't know how he managed to damage the rock. The furless ape is _pathetically_ weak."

"Me neither."

Before their conversation continued, Kilat finally noticed the two adult dragons. She trotted over to them, with a wide grin on her face. "Hello there!" she chirped, her words fast and speedy. "Hey, lookit. Joshua just used electricity! He covered himself in lightning like I always do and appeared in front of me before I could do it myself and it was all _fwoooooosh_. Next thing I know, he booped me and we just hit the wall over there." She twirled in place. "I don't know how he did it. But it's so amazing." The little girl was so proud of him. "I never expected him to boop me, too!"

Seriphos trained his gaze at Coloumbrin. He was trembling, and had a paw raised to his muzzle. "I… I… I don't know what to make of this. He, t-the furless ape can use Electricity?" He looked at him and the other two guards behind them, in the corridor. "Azeroth. I, I-I-I, I need to take my lunch early. Sorry, guys." Immediately the other dragon absconded, making his way to the mess hall in the lower levels of the Temple.

"Hey, Mister Knight?"

Seriphos gazed down at Kilat. She tilted her head. "Is there anything wrong? He looked frightened all of a sudden."

It took a lot of effort for Seriphos to keep himself calm, talking to her. "No, Tiny Wing. Nothing is wrong at all. He's just scared he'll be last in line again."

"Oh!" Kilat accepted this explanation at face value. Thank goodness. "Okay, then!"

Seriphos himself turned to leave. "By the way, please keep things down. We're trying to do our jobs here and we don't want anyone knowing where the furless ape is. Master Terrador's orders."

"Ooooooooookay. We'll try to keep it down!" The child prodigy returned to her surrogate brother. "Joshua? Joshua? …Oh, your head! I'm sorry. I suppose I took it a little too far. Are you okay?"

The Dragon Knight closed the door behind him, and shut the two out. He fell on his knees, paws shivering from the discovery. Joshua Renalia, the furless ape, can use Electricity. He can use an _Element_, just like a dragon. Seriphos couldn't believe it himself, but that was the truth. Joshua had successfully invoked _Volt Tackle_ to catch Kilat.

He didn't believe the rumors coming in from the rest of the city. He attributed the tales of Joshua's ability to fling away globs of Cynder's poison or freeze flying icicles in place to nothing more but fearmongering. Seriphos may not have seen him employ the Electric element, but Kilat's genuinely excited reactions were enough for him.

The fact it looked more likely that Joshua really _did_ kill all those people at the Gates occupied Seriphos' mind much less than the fact he could use _multiple Elements_, just like the legendary Purple Dragon himself. What did that mean? What did that mean for him? For Warfang? For the Dragon Realms in general? The Dragon Knight recalled how Cynder and all the Guardians save for Cyril gave him special treatment and were exceptionally lenient with his imprisonment, in spite of the incident three days ago.

That meant they knew this.

That meant they were wracking their heads trying to divine some bigger, some greater meaning behind the furless ape's arrival.

That meant they were hoping Joshua was an isolated case, not something happening to the Apes as a whole.

Ancestors. Merely four years have passed since Malefor's death in the Burned Lands. Was there another danger lurking in the darkness, just beyond the horizon?

These questions were too much for the Dragon Knight. He rose to his feet, and shuffled away from the door. "I'm okay," he reassured Copeland. "I'm okay." He wanted to get out of there, too, but he couldn't leave. His discipline and training refused to let him.

"I'm just… I'm just going to stay over there for a while." Far away from the door. That's it. No more observing. Not for a few days.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I meant it when I said _Aimless_ has many more chapters to go. Enough snips have been planned to keep this story going for a lot longer than the endgame, and so far I have been able to arrange in a spreadsheet the publishing and chronological order of the snips up until Chapter 63. Yes, you read that right: this fic has a goddamn **spreadsheet** to help me keep track of the story.

With all the jumping around I'm doing, it _had_ to be done. That said, I wonder if you guys are curious about the timeline. Let me know if you want to see where a snip is placed, in terms of how many days or months or years have passed since the "Gates of Warfang" incident.

Okay, so, replies to reviews...

* * *

**Cutie Kyuubi** – Whoops! You're right. I corrected that as soon as I saw it.

**Protonix** – Nope, not at the moment. But someone will eventually figure out the truth. It is inevitable. Never heard of a Ghostbusters/Spyro crossover though…

**LunarWalker** – I feel your pain. Youtube and FFN are my only sources of entertainment and when you're updated, there's only so much you can follow. Anyway, next two updates (including this one) will be more lighthearted and shorter, too, so the effort shouldn't be that much. Thank you again, and I'm glad you're still reading my fic.

**Djax80** – Yep, he managed to do it, despite all odds! Oh, and super minor spoiler for y'all: the post-hearing brief that happened after Background Check resulted in another stalemate. Heh, what a surprise!

**Bizzleb** – I did not realize I bookended the chapter with Joshua and Kilat's relationship. He didn't get to take the full advantage of his "water break" but at least he managed to keep it from spiraling down. I can't picture him telling Kilat the real truth, though. He already considered the true Fourth Wall here, and even he can't fathom the idea. So long as he cannot comprehend the fact he **is** a fictional character himself, then why would he come up to her and confess?

And Skylands will _definitely_ play a role here in the future. Skylands is a species-diverse dominion run mainly by Wind Dragons with a superiority complex. Expect more curveballs from them as the updates keep rolling out.

Joshua getting his bearings was a long time coming anyway. It will be necessary for the "Journey Home" category of snips, which focus entirely on all his efforts to learn more about the Unknown Element and find a way back to Earth. As for Classic Spyro references… ohohoho… there's going to be something so much more than a plain reference in the future. It's already been planned. I just don't know when it's going to come out.

The job will help him, but Joshua needs to do a lot more to win his freedom to live in Warfang as he pleases. Sparx is okay with the revelation (he does have quite the ego). Cynder… that'll require another snip in itself. Maybe two.

**Wretched Abyss** – Joshua didn't use the White Isle to explain anything, actually. Read again. Skydancer's role, though, is rather minor in the grand scale of things. Her interest in Joshua is strictly professional, and her job is geared more towards diplomatic relations between Warfang and Skylands. Like Councilor Udina in Mass Effect. Thank you so much for your feedback.

**Sol1234** – Had to shatter common sense along the way, but at least he got out of it! Good deeds… expect that to start happening later on. Those things tend to happen by themselves.

**V-SxC** – Wow, you're really going to wait for SpyCy to get hatchlings? You're going to be waiting for a long time, then…

**InfamousVenous** – Thank you so much for the comments! Honestly, I'm already surprised at the attention this fic's getting, but hey, gotta keep going and strive higher. I could not have done this without you and my reader base. You are all awesome!

Anyway, I started the story to make jabs at the fanfiction community in general, so that's a mainstay for all Joshua-centric POVs. Got to live with it, dude. Sorry.

Knowing Joshua, he'll mess up any attempts to square things away with Spyro. But hey, it's the journey, not the destination. *wink wink*

1v1 facetime with Volteer on human tech and culture… I expect something like that to happen at some point, for sure. Joshua will get friends later on too, so that conversation is definitely coming.

**Aguywhogames** – Thank you so much for your review, dude. I really appreciate it. And did you mean "named" Joshua? As in, your name is Joshua too? Oh boy. XD Well, honestly… Joshua Renalia **was** based on a real person. I'd think he would hate being called "Josh-O" too. It's pretty stupid.

**Folwod** – It's fine, man. iRL takes precedence first. Anyway, I'd like to thank you so much for your review. I don't exactly know what brought you to _Aimless_, but rest assured, I will do my best to keep you entertained. BTW, good job finding me in that place. I knew it would have happened sometime, but I still never expected one of my readers to actually find it. Good job? XD


	24. (City Life) (2W) Random Musings 1

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry, guys! Not the snip I was planning to put up next. This one popped up out of nowhere while I was going over the reviews for one of the new human fics appearing in the archives.

Short and sweet. Approx. 1800 words long.

Oh, and by the way, I decided to timestamp the chapters according to the chronological order in my timeline for _Aimless_. This can be either precise (as in "5D/EM") or vague (as in "1Y") and is read relative to Joshua's arrival in Warfang. Convention? D for days, W for weeks, M for months, and Y for years. EM for early morning, LM for late morning, EA for early afternoon, LA for late afternoon, EE for early evening, and LN for late night.

All right, y'all. Enjoy!

* * *

**City Life – Mirror Image**

**Chapter 24: [2W/EM] Random Musings 1**

_"Experience teaches us what exists and how it exists, but never that it must necessarily exist so and not otherwise. Experience therefore can never teach us the nature of things in themselves."_

_\- Immanuel Kant, _Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics

* * *

"Ah!"

Kilat looked up at Joshua. She withdrew her tongue and let his forearm slip from her paws, glazed with thick spit. "Huh? What's wrong? You _know_ I don't bite."

"I know _that_."

"Then why'd you interrupt me?" She frowned. "You're not trying to get out of bath time, are you?"

Joshua paled. The last time he tried that, she used enough electricity to stun him. Then she gave his face so many sweeps, the smell not only persisted for an _entire day _but was also so potent it drew unnecessary attention from anyone who merely got close to him. The timing was absolutely terrible. That incident took place right before Volteer's second attempt at turning him into some f*cking errand boy! One of Volteer's apprentices told him to ask the Guardian for cologne, only for _another _to reply that it wouldn't even drown out the repulsive morning breath.

"No, no, no, no!" Joshua blurted repeatedly, waving his arms to appease the child. "It's nothing like that." He thrust his right hand at her snout, beckoning the little girl to clutch it with her digitigrade paws. "Here, take it. See? It's fine. It's totally fine."

"Says the bath-hater," she said.

"_Kilat_! We already talked about this."

She giggled. "I know! I'm just teasing you." The dragoness pulled his arm closer to her and reapplied another layer of spit before gazing up at him. "So what's poking your scales?" She brought her snout down and started another round of sweeping, with her ears perked and attentive.

Joshua tried not to focus on how weird it felt. _Twice a day. Twice a f*cking day._ "Weeeeeell… there's something I want to ask you."

"Mmmmm." She paused for a second. "Can't this wait until I'm done?"

"No! I'll just forget again!"

Kilat nudged his arm extra strong. "Ooookaaay. As long as it won't make me talk too much."

Seriously? She didn't have to spell it out for him. Of _course_ she wouldn't want to talk. Her f*cking mouth is a little preoccupied tending to his personal hygiene! Joshua squashed his annoyance—he _really_ didn't want to forget again. "Errr, how to say this properly… uhhhh…"

It took a few moments to gather his bearings. "Okay, let's just start with this. You know how I look like, right?"

"Yeah." Kilat had already moved to his right elbow. Goddamn, she was working fast! F*ck, he hated it every time she got to the armpits. He was ticklish there.

"And for the past, month or so practically everyone's been calling me 'hairless ape' this, 'furless ape' that, 'ugly monkey', and all that kind of shit."

He watched Kilat pull out an ingrown hair using her paws. The manual dexterity these dragons were capable of still amazed him to this day. "So?"

"Do I **really** look like one of them?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon, Kilat! You know how the Apes look like. Hunched shoulders. Hulking piles of dirty, smelly fur. Menacing claws and teeth. And those _uuuuuuuuugly_ shit on their faces! Seriously, how can anyone—how can **everyone **here mistake **me** for one of those FUGMOs? Even _you_! _You_ thought I was some kind of Ape back at the Dry Canyon. For real, dude? Even if you compared me side-to-side with f*cking Ooogabooga, I still look absolutely nothing like—MMMF!"

Joshua shoved the dragoness away. "PLEH!" He spat on the floor. "Goddammit, little girl. For the last time, stop _washing_ my face while I'm talking!"

Kilat locked eyes with him, her rejoinder a timid smirk. "Sooooooorrry. You were flapping your arms around like a little hatchling!"

The gamer scowled at her. F*cking kid. But before he could give her a piece of his mind, Kilat leaned over and gave him one _deliberately _slow stroke. A sudden upward sweep followed. Joshua gagged and wiped his face multiple times, inadvertently providing the dragoness bathing him with an opening.

"Besides, I got you to shut up," she tittered. "Works every time."

_For obvious reasons._ Joshua crossed his arms. "Hmph."

"To tell you the truth," Kilat said. Her gaze panned across his entire body, a gesture that, in this context, meant she acknowledged his ranting. "You're right. You don't look like them, you don't smell like them, and you don't feel like them." She laughed. "Ancestors, if you really _are_ some sort of Ape, you must be one of the _strangest_ ones alive." Then she suddenly beamed. "Oooh, ooh, ooooohhh! I know! Maybe you're just a freak! Like the grayscales!"

Joshua didn't know if he should feel offended. The term she mentioned puzzled him. "What's a grayscale?" he asked.

"A dragon that can't use any Element. Their scales are _always _gray, as if there's no life. Lani told me it's why a lot of people shun monoscales."

"Monoscales like you."

"Yeah," she wilted. "Like me…" But only for a split second. She perked almost immediately after. "Ehhh, it's okay. At least I have you! I'll _always_ have you!" Kilat nuzzled his cheek, completely forgetting about his bath. Joshua relished the soft and wonderful feeling. It was like his girlfriend took an exorbitantly priced Hermes bag stitched from crocodile belly leather and rubbed his face with it. Man, he'd rather have this over a slobbery tongue any day. "Though I still find it weird, calling a hoo-man my brother."

"Heh, I love you, too, Kilat," Joshua chuckled. _How much weirder do you think it is for me, then? _

In return he rubbed her belly. She shuddered at the touch. It was cute, sort of. "Sooooooo, if I don't look like an Ape, I don't smell like an Ape, and I don't 'feel' like an Ape, why does _everybody_ keep saying I'm one?" He gestured at the sliding door on the other side of the room. "I'd also ask Seriphos—you know, the _only _guard who bothers replying to me—but it isn't his shift yet."

The child replied, "I don't know. I _actually_ don't know."

"So when I pulled you out from under that bush—

"I was thinking, 'Waaaaaah! It's an Ape. Oh no, he saw me. Eeeek! He's coming for me. He's gonna finish me off, nooooooo!'" She noticed his cocked eyebrow. "Hey! Joshuuuaaaaa, don't give me that look! I was bleeding, everyone in my group was dead, and there were so-so-so-sooooooo many of 'em hunting me! That's when **you** came along and you knew—I don't know how, but you just _knew_ it was me! 'You're that yellow dragon', you even said." She leaned forward, and a balled paw cuffed his chest. ("OW"!) "That really-really-really-_really _made me lose my scales!"

"Yet you somehow managed to associate me with _one of them_? Instead of, uhhh… a traveling bandit, for example?"

"Argh, I don't knooooooow!" She moved back. "What else do you want me to say? Your 'ape-ness' was screaming at me."

"…What the f*ck?"

"Egeria help me!" she jabbered. "I can't, I-I can't explain it to you. It's just, there's something about you that tells me you're an Ape."

"That _really _doesn't help me at all."

"I'm sorry… I wish I can do more for you. Look, why don't you ask Volteer? Maybe he can—

Joshua shook his head. "Today's Meredi, remember? He's not picking me up 'til Mazarach, and that's five days away!" More like five _long_ days away. Joshua was still bothered by the fact the days here were _longer_ than the days on Earth. Knowing his body had managed to adapt to the way things were on the Realms... that scared him as much as it amazed him. "Until then, I'm a manual scavenger." The thought was depressing. It wasn't a profession for gamers and their sedentary lives.

Kilat returned to her work, moving to his other arm. This time she rested on his lap. "Don't be sad, Joshua." She took his left hand in her mouth and started massaging it. Joshua admitted to himself, it felt good. Kilat really _did_ know what she was doing. But none of that could ever distract him from the fact it was so gross. Damn it, and she still had the rest of his body to go! How sickeningly _delightful_. "That won't last forever. It's only your second week."

"But I can't take it anymore! Given my oh-_soooo_-wonderful luck, I'll still be doing that shit until next month, or longer! Someone f*ck me, I don't wanna do that anymore. It's the worst, job, **ever**. Jesus Christ, I don't know how the moles can even love that crap. They're absolutely f*cking insane. All of 'em!"

Kilat did not answer him. She focused on her work. "It's gonna be okay, Joshua," the little girl cooed. "It's gonna be okay." She hummed a tune he couldn't recognize. It was probably something she learned from her mother. Whatever it was, though, listening to its light, peaceful melody calmed him down.

Joshua Renalia leaned back on the wall. His thoughts returned to their conversation earlier. Kilat couldn't explain herself at all. It was as if her very _instincts_ told Joshua he was an Ape. However, for all of his protests to the contrary, he would've never denied the fact humans _were_ genetically connected to primates. His species originated from Earth's monkeys. Genetic differences between mankind, gorillas, and other primates were essentially zero.

Was that why people here believed he was an Ape? Did these instincts… help them discern what he was?

Or maybe it was their frame of reference? Warfang's people had never seen anything like him before. He was completely alien to them. For all he knew, maybe they found the way he moved unnatural, the way he thought unfathomable, the way he lived impossible. It would make sense, wouldn't it? To them, his own Element behaves erratically—lacks structure. To them, his way of life violated common sense itself, not just the norms and unspoken rules they all followed.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult to think—to _conjecture_ that his very existence challenged their collective experience?

"Kilat?"

She trained her gaze at him, looking up from his thigh. "What is it?"

"Do you think, everyone calls me an Ape because…"

"…because…?" Her face held a neutral expression, but even he could perceive the annoyance in her eyes. No need to probe her sphere of life. Obviously she wanted to finish her work, too.

"Because they refuse to believe something like me exists?"

_Because they don't want to readjust their understanding of the world_, he wanted to say.

_Because they're just like the peeps back on Earth, _he thought, _and I'm just being stupid for expecting something better…_

Kilat did not answer immediately. She sat up and looked straight at him, her muzzle sporting a serious look. Somehow, she discerned the profound meaning behind his question and the emotional weight it carried. Despite her demeanor—despite her prepubescence, the Electric dragoness possessed an incredible level of intelligence. She wasn't a prodigy in her Element for nothing.

Her cobalt eyes softened. "It's possible. Don't think about it anymore, okay? You'll always have me. We're family now. You keep forgetting."

.

.

.

Joshua's lips curved into a warm smile. "…Thank you. That means a lot."

"Yey! Now, just sit there and leave me alone so I can finish your bath—

"Though I still find it weird, calling a dragon my sister."

A wing slapped him in the face. "Shut up already!"

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Ahhh finally got that idea out of my system. Left it at "#1" though. For all I know, I'll end up coming up with a surprise "Random Musings #2" as I live life or something. XD

Anyway, sorry for not updating as fast as I did last year. I'm halfway done through migrating the data from all my notes to the spreadsheet containing the snips. I still have to determine _both _the chronological order and posting order of each snip, not to mention make sure that the details there are consistent. Unfortunately, several of the snips have been deemed redundant and I struck them off the outline.

Since there are more than a hundred snips currently on record, that means I may have to readjust the posting order I decided last November. Ahhhh… content management. It is such a wonderful job. -_-

* * *

_Replies to recent reviews:_

**KeyBlader Zen**:

#1: you're totally misunderstanding it. Cats and other felines engage in "love bites" all the time as a gesture of affection. Ask someone who has a cat for a pet.

#2: Not really. Just sounds like it though, but "absorbing hers" is closer to what actually happened.

#3: Not every fanwriter needs a spreadsheet. Unfortunately, _Aimless_ does since the scope of the project spans multiple parallel mega arcs, along with "slice of life" snips.

#4: SpyCy will have problems, obviously. How often I'll show that, though… hmm… that's a tough question to ask. XD

See you in the next chap!

**Bizzleb**: Thank you again for your review. It is good to know I met my objectives for the last chapter. Originally, _Boop!_ was supposed to take place from Kilat's POV, but I couldn't resist using one of the guards. And yep, Seriphos' bio was perfect for my use. He'll probably show up a few other times, I guess. Who knows?

Anyway, understand that Joshua's immediate goal is to escape "room arrest" ASAP, and eventually claw back his freedom to move in and out of the city. He'll need this freedom not just to explore Warfang, but also to find a way home. Putting his best foot forward is the most sensible thing to do.

Re: the Unknown Element. You're not close (lmao). What happened was that he nullified Kilat's Volt Tackle, absorbed it, and used her own energy as his own the way he would normally have if he was manipulating an Electric Orb. Kilat just thinks he was faster than her. Anyway, chapters 11 through 19 pretty much exist to showcase this power (and fulfill some secondary objectives), so… try again, I say!

See you in the next update.

**Zero Fullbuster (guest)**: Thanks. I don't know how your computer being weird can prevent you from logging in though.

**InfamousVenous**: *boop* to you too :P Anyway, yeah, a light-hearted chapter was definitely needed. I never got to write the planned snip though, and until I get another "sudden idea" like _Random Musings #1_, then we'll be having _Clothes Make the Man_ for Chapter 25, as intended.

Don't worry about Joshua. He can take it! He'll complain a lot but he'll take it like a boss. Kilat is aww-adorable and I intend on capitalizing on it. Now where the hell is Riza… I need to commission a cute pic of her. XD

Yep. Got that spreadsheet. I'm still doing the content management. I just came out with this since it popped into my head all of a sudden.

Thanks for your review.

**Djax80**: Considering that his exposure to the Unknown Element is slowly making his body stronger than the average human being, I'd say the worst that happened is that he got a cracked skull. Nothing an offscreen red gem won't fix.

But honestly, I just got carried away. I thought it would be a nice touch to add tiny cracks in the wall to emphasize what happened. I can always remove it. Hell, _don't_ consider it as part of "canon". I don't care. It won't change my plans for Joshua's development if you ask me.

I look forward to the day we hit chapter 100 too. Lots of work to do though. -_-;

**Koal (guest)**: Couldn't sign in again? Are y'all lazy? XDDDD Joke.

Uhm, no. My story won't have the highest word count. The highest I've ever seen so far – on a **very** well-written story – is about 1.8 million words and is still far from over (but hasn't updated in like a year – I'm sad!). I designed _Aimless_ to be everything _The Interloper_ is not: short chapters, flexible storytelling, lighthearted fare, and a setting extensive enough where other people are welcome if not encouraged to directly contribute chapters to this story while feeling like they are expanding the TLoS universe in a collaborative manner (a structure _Aimless _shares in common with TokoWH's _The Infinite Loops: A Tale of Two Realms_).

**Lonewolf (guest)**: *shrugs* Maybe. A belated Merry Christmas to you, too, by the way, but you didn't need to use a review to greet me during the holidays. (Not that I'm complaining! XD)

**Jason (guest)**: Nope. Not that kind of story, dude. Joshua will remain human. Turning him into a dragon will completely defeat the reason I started _Aimless_ to begin with.

**TheKingofGames1001**: Refer to my responses to Keyblader Zen and bizzleb. I did _not_ give him Electricity. Anyway, I'm watching my step all the time. Hopefully I won't screw up. :D

**Draykat the half-dragon mage**: Considering that I will eventually throw out time-skips as far as multiple years, if not decades, yes, there is a chance we will see SpyCy becoming parents.

Never got all your theories you were gonna tell me about. :P

And Joshua didn't _really_ meditate. It's just what it looks like from Seriphos' POV.

Go on and use it in your fic. I won't mind.

**Cynder (guest) **and** Quest (guest)**: Thank you for your review. I'd appreciate it if you could be a bit more substantial next time (and if you could sign in? :D :D :D)

**Guest1**: Dude, I love how much you want more of my fic, but please understand that I don't adhere to a set update schedule and I'm ultimately doing this just for fun. Thank you. :D

**MatrixMash**: Holy shit, that is a looooot of comments…

#1. Trapped in TV Land. Here's the link: tvtropes . /Main/TrappedInTVLand (remove the spaces to complete the URL). The description in the first paragraph is pretty straightforward and captures the majority of so-called "human fics" in the Spyro archives, including _Aimless_.

#2: Re: the inconsistencies and unbelievable actions in battle. I'm not surprised they're there. I'll admit, I half-assed this fic when I was planning/writing the beginning (which included the story arc at the gates). I wanted nothing more than to finish it, showcase the Unknown Element, and go straight to the "aimless" part of the story—this fic's main feature. Scrutinize the details with the lens of real-life physics, and the realism in the fighting falls apart.

As for Infernus, I would like to think it was adrenaline rush and sheer force of will, or hate.

#3: Energy costs. If you're gonna look into it that deeply, you may as well consider where the other dragons are getting their abilities to conjure massive firestorms, create blizzards, move large swathes of the earth, or—in Spyro's case—shoot unstoppable purple death rays of doom.

#4: Less author intervention in the future. Yep, you can expect that. He'll have gained a traveling party at some point, along with enough skills to take better care of himself.

#5: Trial as a framing device. Yeah, it was deliberate. It's funny how this snip started from my desire to make fun of the common "This cannot be. I am eternal!" line drop.

Thanks again for the feedback. I appreciate the scrutiny.

**Somas35**: I've long acclimatized to a particular style of writing, so my problem now are usually things _not related_ to the writing itself, such as the balance between pacing and detail, or consistency of details (to ensure properly executed suspension of disbelief). At the current lengths I'm writing at, _Aimless_'s chapters take two weeks to a month to write from beginning to end. (Ignore _Random Musings #1 _please. This snip literally took less than 12 hours.) Meanwhile, _The Interloper_ had chapter lengths between 15K and 20K, and required at least three months of writing work. I've gotten so lazy that, well… whoops! Cat's out of the bag. Now you know why _Aimless_ is here. XD

Hope to see you in the next snip.


	25. (City Life) (2D) Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Notes:**

Transferring of snips from notes to the spreadsheet is nearing its conclusion, but unfortunately it's been stalled due to real life (work, plus… I got a girlfriend now woot!). So… whew! There's a lot—and I mean a **lot**—of content to sift through. There are a ton of ideas and story threads to go through in Aimless, and the last thing I want to happen is produce a disorganized mess. Still, it'll be good to finally slap a timestamp on each snip and rearrange the whole thing according to an optimal posting order.

Timestamp key: "D" for days, "W" for weeks, "M" for months, "Y" for years, "EM" for early morning, "LM" for late morning, "EA" for early afternoon, "LA" for late afternoon, "EE" for early evening, "LN" for late night, and "AD" for all day. Note that the Realms follows the sexagesimal system for keeping time, just like Earth. (In other words, 60 seconds per minute and 60 minutes per hour.) The timestamp is relative to Joshua's arrival in Warfang. That is to say, Day Zero begins at the end of the 19th chapter.

Snip category key: There are four categories of snips. "Settling In", "City Life", "Beyond the Wall", and "The Journey Home". All four represent parallel storylines that take place within _Aimless_, and other than "Settling In", each snip category has at least two subtypes. Those subtypes aren't listed due to potential spoilers.

The OC **Corvold** belongs to **djax80**.

Enjoy.

* * *

**City Life****** – **Threads of Gold**

**Chapter 25: [2D/EM] Clothes Make the Man**

"_Naked people have little or no influence on society."_

\- Mark Twain

* * *

The center of the Allied Territories, Warfang was both the cradle of political power in the continent of Markazia and an impenetrable stronghold famous for its massive and domineering walls. Reinforced with magic and the supposed "blessings of the Ancestors", they towered impractically high. So high, they could be seen from the eastern side of Blackstone Mountains.

At least on a sunny day, a cheetah recalled.

It wasn't called the City of Dragons for nothing. Before the War, those gargantuan reptiles ruled this place for centuries. They outnumbered every other species living here, even the Moles who built this city in the first place, and they _knew _it. It was said dragonkind received special treatment in this city, discriminated favorably at expense of the others, for they alone could fly and wield the elements that formed the very lands everyone walked.

The Moles never cared. They made them _for_ the winged lizards and they were perfectly happy slaving to the dragons' every need and desire back then, just as they were today. The others tolerated this inequality for hundreds of years without question. After all, the Dragons were typically approachable and generous to those who assisted them.

This city changed after the War, the cheetah pondered. Dragonkind now teetered close to extinction. Having been systematically hunted by the Dark Master, the Ape King, and the Terror of the Skies, they now numbered less than 100,000 individuals, excluding the snobs from Skylands. The so-called "City of Dragons" enjoyed the greatest degree of species diversity it's ever had in generations, a wonderful era of peace and promises of prosperity, under the rule of the Guardians and the Saviors of the Realms.

All of them were dragons. The irony didn't escape him.

If only these lizards were humble enough to at least _recognize_ the precarious state of their species. The Huntress should shoot such humility straight into their hearts. They **needed** the supposedly "lesser species" more than ever.

Looking at how all the Dragon Squires guarding the Warfang Temple glared at the cheetah, he might as well have shot his arrow in the dark. He almost recoiled at the palpable suspicion thrown his way. So many of them! And so _close_ to Talonpoint Keep. They were fidgeting, and the cheetah could see their enchanted armors twitch. They were anxious for action.

Or they were just nervous.

After all, the feline had brought a wheelbarrow overflowing with so much cloth and rags and fabrics the guards could probably smell them from hundreds of wingspans away.

The Huntress help him! None of them bothered to _inspect _the stinking goods. They shoved him away the instant he approached. Blocked his path with their sturdy bodies and their giant wings. A brown dragon growled and threatened to use the earth to overturn his cart and bury him under its "rotten contents". These people were ruthless! He needed to get this delivery done right away, or he wouldn't make it back in time to pick up the children from the academy. If he dawdled here too long, the kids would suffer without lunch for at least an hour, even if he took the speedways.

…And that assumed he could actually find a Dragon who'd willingly allow an insignificant cheetah like him on their back like a common horse.

"Corvold!" someone called his name. "Corvold!"

A leopard clad in armor appeared on the hill up ahead. He bounded gracefully down the slope, sprinting straight to the gate. The Dragon Squires recognized a member of their own guard and opened a clear path for this newcomer.

"I am so sorry!" apologized the guard. Corvold recognized the armor. Crystals and runes adorned its pieces, adding mysterious qualities to the metal he knew at once was among Talonpoint Keep's finest materials. "I completely forgot they tightened security after we brought in the furless ape on Torsha. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I thought they'd let you through Talonpoint Gate as usual."

"Well they _didn't_," Corvold grumbled. "How could you forget about this, Copeland? You're **assigned** here!"

The leopard bowed his head obsequiously. His eyes shut from embarrassment. "I'm really sorry. The past two days were a logistics nightmare for everyone."

"I don't care. Damn it, glittery tom. You _know_ my reddish fur naturally arouses suspicion!" He crossed his arms. His ears twitched when he frowned. "You had a couple days, so you could've done something about it!"

Copeland yawned before he could give Corvold a reply. Seeing this, the cheetah cut his friend off. "You haven't had much sleep have you?"

"No. Been awake for 39 hours straight since yesterday."

"What happened?"

"Aahh," The leopard started to reply, only to jolt when he remembered something. "Hold on. Let's discuss this while we walk? This way, I'm sure you can return to your district before the academy dismisses your kids."

Satisfied at the polite suggestion, Corvold strolled to his barrow and picked it up. He made sure all the clothing remained right where they were. "Good. I hope you haven't forgotten how far Mudline District is."

"Northeast Warfang, yes? Don't worry, I'll make sure you leave the Temple on dragonback."

The Dragon Squires obstructed the path ahead of them once more. This time a redscale dragon nearing the end of his adolescence—a couple heads taller than either feline—padded forward. "Copeland," he said, "We can't let your friend through until we inspect his belongings." He hid a grimace, perhaps thinking of the insufferable stench emanating from the wheelbarrow. "Just standard operating protocol."

They wanted to inspect it _now_? After making him wait for thirty minutes? An outraged Corvold resisted the urge to shove his foot onto the dragon's muzzle.

Copeland produced a badge from the satchel he carried on his waist. Corvold couldn't see the exact insignia or emblem emboldened on the piece of metal, but whatever it was neutered the guard's movements. "No need. Just for this visit, Corvold is an exception to the rule." He demonstrated the badge for every guard to see, and even the red cheetah himself caught a glimpse of purple, black, and gold. "But don't worry. The wheelbarrow only contains old clothes from his orphanage."

The redscale blanched. "Yuck! Ancestors, who would be crazy enough to wear these stinky rags? They smell like a dragon diver that just came out of a full cloaca."

"The furless ape would," Copeland replied. "He made an urgent request for clothing yesterday, with Lady Cynder's full approval." He gestured towards Corvold with a sneer on his snout. "Luckily, my friend here had some old clothes ready for the gar—for donation."

Corvold felt the pause that followed. Every Dragon Squire at the gate wore a dumbfounded expression for so long, he did not think the moment all of them howled in laughter in unison would come. The guards immediately stood aside, while the lone redscale bowed his head. "Oh. Then we have no problem. You may pass, cheetah." He grinned at Corvold. "It would be _our pleasure_."

The two of them passed Talonpoint Gate together and, with their powerful legs, easily ascended the hill. From there, the path branched into two. One went to the left and down, to the intimidating castle of Talonpoint Keep. The other headed right, dipping a little before rising up and up along the massive mountain that housed the Temple and its underground rooms. The dirt path ended right where it met the White Steps, the highest stairway in all of Warfang. A beautiful sight to behold… until one had to climb it.

Corvold grumbled at the thought of all the non-dragons walking up so many steps. They would be so exhausted, by the time they reached the top it would look like they were all groveling before the dragons, the flying lords and masters of the Realms. Arrogant lizards. This was one of the worst things he detested about the Temple. Thankfully the feline species were blessed with strong legs.

Corvold lifted up the cart and followed Copeland the very second after he took in the view. "So, the other day you said the Guardians assigned you with important guard duty."

"Figured out I'm guarding the furless ape, have you?"

"The forest is abundant with footprints and droppings." A cryptic answer, but the idiom would be familiar to any warrior from the Valley.

Copeland did not disappoint. "Still as sharp as ever, huh?" He quipped. "You always _did_ have a knack for discerning patterns."

Corvold went straight for the heart. "How is it? I heard Apes are extremely difficult to keep as prisoners."

The leopard soldier laughed. "Ha! Not _this_ one. Joshua is the most docile Ape I've ever seen. Stays inside his room, doesn't make noise, doesn't vandalize the furniture, hasn't threatened us _at all_ since we threw him in there, and—Great Hunt—did I mention he never made a single attempt at escape?"

He couldn't believe that last one. "Wasn't he put in an unused room in the residential area?"

"Yes! Any Ape worth his shabby hide would have salivated at that. No locks, no reinforced doors, and empty corridors with civilian dragons living in the lower floors. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't even be talking to you today. He went out by himself once, in early morning Retorsha. Just to wake Seriphos up and take him to the lavatorium. The old greenscale's still baffled about it!"

"…Hmm, it sounds like the furless ape _wants_ to stay in Warfang."

"Could be. Lady Cynder and Master Volteer are personally backing him. I heard he saved Lady Cynder's life from a conspiracy planned by a Guardian Candidate."

He disregarded the last sentence. That was old news, and for most people, old news was worthless. "Why? Almost everyone wants him dead."

"Including us, his own guards," Copeland admitted without shame. This Joshua was lucky he had soldiers from Talonpoint Keep guarding him. They were known for their adherence to very high standards of professional conduct. Even if everyone who watched over the furless ape abhorred him and wished for his torturous death every hour, they would still perform their duty as instructed and to the letter. "Anyway, they think the human is better left alive."

"Human?"

"It's what the furless ape calls his kind."

Probably the name of his subspecies, Corvold mentally filed. "Is the favor of the child prodigy that important? I've heard mewlings she can use master-level techniques, multiple times over."

"Yes, but that's not all. Joshua's power is worth studying. Master Volteer called it an Element, if I remember correctly."

Corvold had heard the stories. It sounded incredulous. The human was said to have completely negated the other Elements with his power alone. He could produce a white cloud so potent it instantly turned any hapless victim into a corpse. He shot out beams of light that did just the same. One strike from his fist supposedly could cause a flash of light and make a seasoned warrior fall, floundering in pain and cut off from the world. Corvold even recalled a rumor persisting in the taverns, describing a frightening ability to turn invisible or drain the life and mana out of anyone he touches. **Supposedly**.

"Is that _truly_ an Element?" Corvold asked, just as they arrived at the White Steps. "I've never heard of Dragons performing the same things he did on Torsha afternoon."

Copeland stared back at him. "I wouldn't know. I'm not a Dragon." He gestured to a platform and a set of ropes next to the staircase. "Hey, aren't you going to set your cart down?"

"Sorry. Was lost in thought." Thankfully, the Dragons accounted for travelers' belongings when they used the Temple. Visitors burdened with bags or other heavy objects would place their items on this platform, tie it down, and have it brought up by either pulleys or, if they were willing to pay coins, the efforts of an greenscale. "The lenient treatment of the Ape is surprising. Is Joshua's background even clear? Why did he come to Warfang to begin with?"

"I can't tell you," said the leopard. He raised a paw to his chest. "Honor-bound, remember?"

The cheetah frowned. "Hmph! Obviously Talonpoint's Code is more important than childhood friends."

"Huntress shoot you, Corvold!" Copeland stopped climbing the steps and glowered down at him. "Why do you keep bringing that up? Isn't it enough that I set this up? You'll be seeing the furless ape for yourself! I _vouched_ for you, damn gib."

Corvold raised his hands in peaceful surrender. "I'm sorry! I'm grateful for the opportunity, I really am. But I cannot help it. I'm—

"An orphan master who sidelines as a reliable information broker every Valorem, I know. Your commissions finance almost a third of my income. But I told you before, I can't—I _won't _compromise my honor."

"Please, Copeland," the cheetah requested. "The red cycle's ending next week, and my profits haven't been at their best this month. My landlord—

"All right! All right!" conceded the armored leopard. He turned and resumed the hike up. "I shouldn't even mention this." He shook his head, before hesitantly speaking, "Okay, the Guardians have a hearing scheduled for next Meredi. They hope we can clear up some of the mysteries surrounding the human."

Copeland stomped his boot. "But that's all I'm going to say about this! Talonpoint's Code forbids me from revealing anything else."

A hearing about Joshua? Corvold conjectured this would pertain to his origins. That his background would be the first topic made sense to him. All the Councilors would attend this, he was certain. Hmm… if memory served him right, there should be an Atlawa merchant in Wellbore District who needed a financier for his next venture beyond the wall. Connecting him to Moneybags would shower plenty of coin in his direction, enough to pay the rent for the next two red cycles. "It's fine, old friend!" Corvold clapped his hands together and bowed. "It's fine. Praise the Huntress! This is a great gift you've given me. It will be very useful."

"You owe me," he emphasized. "Don't forget that."

"I won't. I swear on the spoils of the Great Hunt."

.

.

.

The Terror of the Skies herself waited for the two cats at the top of the White Steps, where the path led to an archway that welcomed all visitors to a field roughly two hundred paces wide. From what Corvold could see, the Dragons used this as one of the many VTOL points in the Temple. Those who weren't using the clearing for its intended function could be found gathering near the corners. He could see several groups of people lounging there. Many of them were dragons, but some were moles and the less frequently seen felines and gnorcs.

The red cheetah's jaw dropped upon seeing one of the Saviors. Great Hunt, he had forgotten how enormous the adult dragons were. For a dragoness nearing the end of her adolescence, she already stood at least two heads taller than him.

"Ah! Lady Cynder!" Copeland genuflected before Cynder. "I am surprised to see you here, Your Grace. Is there anything this humble servant can do for you?"

"Copeland, stand up and stop with the formalities," Cynder said. "You know how Spyro and I feel about them."

From the corner of his eye, Corvold saw four moles tirelessly working on the levers that lifted his barrow up the mountain.

Meanwhile, Copeland complied with Cynder's response and straightened his back. He stretched. "All right then." His voice lost its elegance and reverted to normal. His back cracked. "Ahhhh! Much better." The leopard raised his paw in greeting. "Sorry about that. You know I have to follow those stupid rules when someone could be watching."

The Savior sighed. "Yes," she empathized with him. Her voice was soft and meek, but Corvold heard the strength lying beneath its tenderness. "I know what you mean. If you ask me, there's no point to all these formal dragon dung. Proper decorum is an enormous waste of time, honestly."

"Tell that to the Councilors. They're the ones insisting on all this... _tradition_."

"Believe me, we tried." Cynder turned to Corvold. "So who's this?" she asked. Cynder's viridian gaze inspected the cheetah from top to bottom as she approached.

Corvold heard the blackscale hum to herself. Her gaze intensified just as he eluded eye contact to accept the cart from the kind moles who brought it up from the ground. "Thank you," he muttered and slipped a shining coin in one of their paws. "Here, a little token of appreciation for your work."

"This is Corvold," Copeland introduced him.

Corvold knew the customary greeting by heart. "Clear skies," he intoned. He'd been around enough dragons to know how to enunciate it properly.

Cynder smiled. "Steady winds." She turned to Copeland, "And?"

"He runs a small orphanage in Mudline District. I reached out to him after I heard Joshua complaining about the tattered rags he's wearing, see if he had anything up for donation."

"I see. Isn't Mudline District a bit far? How do you two know each other?"

"We grew up together in the Valley."

"We're more than just childhood friends," Corvold clarified, "I learned how to hunt and survive in the wilds with Copeland in the same group, so we've been through a lot."

"I understand. Hardships bring people closer better than anything else," Cynder said. "I know that better than anyone," She chuckled to herself, momentarily lost in thought.

The dragoness brought her muzzle closer to Corvold, nostrils inhaling the scent of his red fur. He took a step back, feeling uncomfortable from the way she invaded his personal space. She still had this inquisitive look in her eyes. "Cynder, forgive me for saying this, but you're, y-you are…"

She backed off instantly. "Corvold, was it? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Have we met before? You seem familiar."

Her question dredged memories of the past. They were carved in blood and violence, from a time the orphan master would rather forget. "To tell you the truth…"

A demonic dragoness stood tall before the red cheetah. Glowing eyes gazed down and exuded premonitions of death, disdain, and a perverse sense of pride. She saw through his heavy cloak, aware of all the weapons concealed underneath.

"…we have. But you were still the Terror of the Skies when I last spoke to you."

Copeland's astonished gape could never compare to Cynder's. Her eyes dilated instantly. Her wings flared at the same time she jerked back. An awkward silence—a **very** awkward silence immediately descended. Her gaze switched repeatedly between the two felines. She stumbled, having lost both her composure and her eloquence. "Ummmmm, uuuhhhhhh…" She hemmed and hawed. The blackscale couldn't find a way to gracefully emerge from this. "I, I don't, errr, I, I-I'm, I'm—

"Hahahaha!" Corvold's laughter stopped her prattling. The cheetah laughed hard enough to draw the curious gazes of the few dragons relaxing in the corners of the clearing. Cynder's muzzle dropped as another round of laughter rung out from the cheetah's mouth, "HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Savior deadpanned, "Are you done?" There was no mistaking the flat tone in her voice. It indicated how much she felt insulted.

Corvold walked forward and patted her shoulders. A bold move, perhaps above his station, considering they just met. "Relax, Cynder," he said, "Those days are long gone. I know you're not the same dragon."

His words relaxed her. He felt the tension disappearing from her posture. "Then why did you laugh?" she asked.

He smiled, walking back to his barrow. "I found your reaction comical. Why _wouldn't_ I laugh?"

She frowned. "That wasn't funny."

He said, "It was for me. Did you really think I was one of your 'haters'? Only an idiot wouldn't see the difference between you and the Terror of the Skies. It's as vast as fire and ice!"

"There are a lot of those idiots out there."

"True. I like to think I'm not one of them."

"I hope so," she said. "You don't sound like one, but, you _are_ a bit of a jerk." Cynder brought her muzzle to his luggage. "So these are the clothes you're donating to Joshua?" she asked before Corvold could reply. One whiff of the old rags it contained sent her recoiling from the stench. "Ancestors, these smell horrible. Blegh!"

"But they're clean!" Corvold replied. "Isn't that what's important?"

Besides, fermented urine did not smell good to begin with. Clothes soaked in it stank worse than the Huntress's dirt-trodden paw. Laundry was such an abhorrent chore. Despite all the terrible things anyone's ever said about it, though, nobody would ever dispute its ability to remove stains, brighten colors, or soften tough animal skins.

Cynder gave him a tolerant, acquiescing expression. "Ugggh, i-if you say so. I hope Joshua won't complain too much about it."

Copeland interjected, "You'll be disappointed then," he grumbled. "The furless ape is a _vicious_ whiner."

"If any of you touch Joshua," she glared at the leopard. "Volteer and I _will_ find out. We're fully aware how you all feel about him."

The guard raised his hands in surrender. Sweet, placating surrender. It almost hurt Corvold's heart to see his childhood friend sucking up to the dragoness like this. "We won't hurt your guest, Cynder. Talonpoint guards are better than that. You can trust us."

Corvold cleared his throat and drew their attention. "It doesn't matter if the furless ape complains all he wants. He's in rags, isn't he? Clothed in strange, high-quality fabric, but rags all the same. He has no choice but to accept these."

Copeland chuckled, "You certainly have a point there."

"At least Joshua cares about his appearance," Cynder said. "The Apes generally don't bother with these things."

The cheetah started pushing his cart to the massive structure of rock and metal protruding from the very mountain itself. "Shall we move along then?" Corvold glanced at the shining sun and the faint green moon in the sky. He was going to be late if they kept talking like this. "I have a schedule to keep."

Cynder offered, "Copeland can take this to Joshua, or I can have someone else do it. I wouldn't want to impose—

Corvold waved it off. "And miss out on seeing the kid who's been stirring up the entire city since he got here? I won't have another chance like this again. For all I know, all the mewlings about him are true!"

"I understand," she said. "There's so much noise about him in the airstreams... I wouldn't give this up either, I think, if I was in your place."

"It's only been two days," Corvold said. "And he _did _come here in a very, uh, upsetting fashion."

"If you insist, but I'm warning you, you'll probably be disappointed."

"It's better to be disappointed in reality than getting lost in wasteful musings."

The blackscale stepped back from them. She unfurled her wings. They were a beautiful magenta.

Copeland asked her, "Are you leaving, Cynder?"

"Yes. I'll go on ahead and tell Seriphos and the others about your visit. I'd accompany the two of you, but Spyro will be looking for me soon."

"Are you headed somewhere?"

"Dragonberry Cove," Cynder smiled moments before taking off into the sky. Corvold and Copeland watched her slender figure soar elegantly to one of the Temple's entrances, with speed. She landed at an open port near the very top and slipped into the depths of the structure.

"Let's go," Copeland said. "We've got a little more ways before we reach the stairs to the living quarters."

.

.

.

Compared to the hike up the White Steps, they walked briskly through the small forest. Copeland brought him to a paved pathway. Wide enough for two adult dragons to fit, it ended with another arch and a wall stretching both sides deep into the brush. Three gnorcs stood guard, their posture stoic but eyes attentive. Corvold felt their eyes ogling him as he followed Copeland past them, glaring down from above. Tall and imposing.

The forest cleared the instant they went under the stone portal. Corvold's paws registered a flat slope. Slightly hilly, but more or less suitable for the beautiful, rolling garden that he and Copeland sauntered into. Eyes darting to and fro, the red cheetah glimpsed moles tending to the shrubbery and plant life. They dug into the soil. They plucked tiny pests the size of his claws from the plants.

A series of pedestal planters ran along the path they walked, dividing two lanes right across the middle. They passed by a mole scattering a powdery mixture into each one, claws caked a lush brown from digging into his satchel of fertilizer. Corvold sniffed and recognized the musty scent of dragon dung along with a compound of ingredients that neutralized what would usually be an overwhelmingly repulsive odor. He swore upon the Huntress, if they weren't using lizard excrement he could've made a fortune exporting this to Tall Plains.

The orphan master found a female atlawa kneeling next to a patch of ornamental trees. He could see her planting a new addition to the group. A dragon child accompanied her, ready with a handheld pail and a bucket of water. Obviously this was one of the many errands young dragons were assigned to handle as young students and fresh apprentices.

Despite the teams of people tending to the upkeep of Warfang Temple's famous botanic gardens, their numbers couldn't compare to the visitors lounging about. Atlawa and mole children played games on the cut, well-nourished grass. Dragons rested on the spotless podia, taking advantage of the bumps, folds, and ridges carved into them, each cleverly crafted for maximum comfort. Gnorcs off-duty leaned on the decorative columns supporting the shades they loitered around. Rhynocs sat on the stone benches, admiring the sight of people going about their business. Mammals he saw less often in this part of Warfang—bears, wolves, and felines—were strolling through the gardens in a leisure pace.

Truly a marvelous sight to behold.

But ultimately one dominated by dragonkind. Mirroring the state of Warfang itself, the dragons became more numerous and the garden more ornate as Corvold and Copeland approached the large structure in the center. Many of the reptiles were adolescents, but he spotted a few adults among them. Most adults were either content staying indoors or out on the field, keeping the Allied Territories safe from bandits or the Apes.

Still, this did not bother the cheetah. Dragonkind was congregating in this city, seeing it a beacon of recovery for their species. That they teetered on extinction—relative to their population count in the past—was a trivial detail when hundreds, maybe thousands, were moving into Warfang year over year, as word of the Dark Master's death spread across Markazia.

"The gardens are mainly used for leisure or recreation," Copeland echoed his thoughts. Corvold jolted back, avoiding four prepubescent dragons playing a game of boop. _A stupid game with dangerous variants. _"You find more dragons the closer you get to the Temple itself. In the end, they're enjoying the same way all the other species do." And he was right. Four dragonesses slept peacefully as they bathed in the sunlight. A family of four were eating together as one group. A couple of young adults—barely in their 40s—meandered slowly, enjoying their own company with their tails curled around each other. "Difference is, this section of the gardens has clearings for bigger social events or VTOL access."

"That explains why more dragons are over here."

"Correct."

Corvold's gaze caught the life-sized statue of an adult redscale, its orange eyes casting an unreadable gaze down upon them. His expression was one associated with concern and guidance. His posture, that of a benevolent leader who cared for those he collaborated with. The orphan master noted the lifelike impression of the statue's muzzle, even from a distance. Enormous effort was spent ensuring the statue remained true to life. Whoever painted the statue clearly possessed remarkable talent. If he squinted hard enough, Corvold could see the individual birthmarks and other distinguishable markings on the stone body. There wasn't any mistaking the lattices and rows of orchids and flowers and lilies meticulously laid out in a design that could only be described as grand. As magnificent.

It was the most beautiful space in the botanic gardens. That dragon must have been quite the war hero or esteemed ancestor, to have been immortalized this way. But Copeland did not bring Corvold near here. They weren't here to be tourists.

They circled around this memorial and ascended a set of wide stairs carved right out of the rock. They led up to an opening into the great structure in the very center of Warfang. Corvold was worried his wheelbarrow would have been a problem, but a passing rhynoc guard carried it for him upon Copeland's request. The guard cared very little for the stinging urine-like smell or the inconvenience. Otherwise, he wouldn't have snatched the wheelbarrow from his paws and lifted it on his shoulders.

"That'll save a lot of time," Corvold said. "Thank you, Copeland."

"No problem," said the leopard. "It's the least I can do." He entered the first hole going into the rock. A large, open doorway big enough for even adult dragons to walk through comfortably. "This way. Joshua's on the fourth level."

.

.

.

The living quarters of Warfang Temple was plain. Possessing none of the glamour or the elegance of the Temple's exterior, the halls had a surprisingly modest charm to it. Aside from the luminescent firestones and activated mana crystals placed in overhead lamps, corridor torches, and other placeholders, the corridors lacked decorations. Compound piers lined the hallway, their simplistic design reminding the cheetah of his orphanage.

With the living quarters properly sized for adult dragons, Corvold had difficulty grasping the sheer size of each level especially when the outer and inner corridors looped. Rooms and the occasional lavatorium were carved straight out of the rock, separated by sliding doors made from exotic wood. There were three sets of stairs, Copeland informed him, spanning all five levels.

Adolescents and younger occupied the first two floors. They were the most curious of all the residents here. Many gazed at him inquisitively as he passed, advertising his red fur and unusually tall stature for all to see. He could see in their body language this desire to rush over and ask questions like the annoying children they all were. Thank the Huntress for Copeland. His imposing presence stopped them.

The next two levels were allocated for adults. However, there were only so much with rooms in the Temple that the third level still operated at half capacity. Considering how many dragon lounges lived in city districts close to Warfang's center, Corvold surmised that residence in the Temple itself was a privilege given only to individuals whose position required special arrangements.

Like Joshua Renalia himself.

The rhynoc dropped Corvold's cart and left the moment they made it to the fourth level. How rude! He departed before Corvold could reprimand him about treating his equipment carefully, or thank him for taking the time to help. "Leave it be," Copeland said. "C'mon, he's a few turns from here, past the lavatorium at the corner."

He and Corvold had long ceased talking. The cheetah just wanted to get this over with. The faster they did, the sooner he'd be in the speedway, returning to Mudline on dragonback. Soon enough, after the third or fourth—or fifth?—turn from the stairwell, they entered a dead-end corridor that had only one room at the other side…

Watched over by three guards. Two adult dragons and one gnorc. While the yellowscale and the gnorc were nonchalant at Corvold's appearance, the greenscale glared at the cheetah the instant their eyes met.

"So you're the orphan master?" Evidently Cynder had long passed her message. In contrast to her amiable demeanor, the guard before him did not speak so much as he snarled at the cheetah.

"Yes," he said with a respectful bow. "That's me. I've brought clothing—

The dragon cut him off, "I don't trust you." He straightened his posture and held his head high. He flared his wings a little, and Corvold felt the stone beneath his feet vibrate. "Try anything, little cat, and I will make sure you'll—

"Great Hunt, Seriphos! Just stop it!" Copeland interrupted him. "Corvold's my _childhood friend_. We're packmates! You don't need to scare him."

The defense was enough. Seriphos relaxed instantly. He grumbled, "I was _warning_ him, Copeland."

"With threats?"

"Intimidation is an excellent method of dissuasion," he said. "You know this."

Grunting, Copeland turned to Corvold. "I'm sorry. Seriphos takes his role very seriously."

"Because I have to," the Earth dragon replied. "I'm a Dragon Knight of Talonpoint," he pronounced like it would justify his attempt at intimidating the cheetah.

A wing slapped Seriphos on the back of his head. "Ancestors! Why don't you just loosen up already?" The Electric dragon chastised him. "The furless ape's the perfect prisoner. He's happy where he is, he plays by our rules, and he _clearly_ doesn't want us worrying about him. Remember last night?"

Corvold did not hear the greenscale's reply. "He's an overzealous one for sure," he said to Copeland. "But it's all right, he didn't have an effect on me."

"Are you sure? I can report this to Lady Cynder if you want."

"Positive," he answered. Seriphos' pitiful attempt at intimidating him paled in comparison to staring down the Terror of the Skies in all her vicious glory. "It's nothing. Just leave it alone. Can we get on with this now? We're wasting time here."

"Sure."

Copeland approached the sliding door. Before reaching for it, he stomped on Seriphos' foot. The dragon yelled in pain. "That's for insulting my friend," he scolded. "I'm one of those 'little cats' too, in case you forgot."

"I am sorry!" the Dragon Knight said. "When I get into character, I _really_ get into it."

Copeland's voice was flat. "Right. Sure you do." He rapped on the door three times. "Joshua!" he said. "I'm coming in. The clothes you requested are here. A friend of mine brought them over."

"Oh thank f*cking God!" Corvold heard a muffled voice from inside. "About time! I was requesting for this shit ever since you all, like, threw me in here."

The leopard slid the door open without waiting for his permission. It struck the doorway; a solid thump echoed behind Corvold. Copeland beckoned him inside. A cue for the cheetah to go in and put his donations on display. Time to see the furless ape for himself.

Corvold wheeled his cart inside without any expectation whatsoever. He had heard many mewlings about Warfang's controversial guest before coming here. Each originated from a great diversity of sources.

Survivors from the Eastern Gate spread narratives of his fearsome power. Tales of primary witnesses who were rendered senseless and blind to the world, or worse, saw a part of their body turned instantly into rotting flesh. The warriors or the citizens who retreated from fear huddled together in taverns, attempting to make sense of his identity-his true nature-over hot meals and a cold brew. Whispers here and there called him a creature of darkness, a monster of such great evil that he enthralled a little girl in his masquerade. He rained white death upon all the valiant warriors who faced him in combat, at least until he found a few more pairs of dragon wings to cower behind. Other speculations were more... realistic, in Corvold's opinion. He was a foreign spy, they said. Boiled alive until most of his hair fell off, turned hideous to generate public sympathy. The poor child accompanying him was just a victim, an utter fool who believed his lies.

And what did Corvold personally think?

.

.

.

A hunter must always adapt to changing circumstances if he needed to survive the Great Hunt.

Every opinion, every belief the cheetah had shaped over the past 34 hours were thrown out of his quiver the very second Joshua Renalia entered his gaze.

He looked nothing like the mewlings asserted he did. Certainly, the so-called human _did_ resemble an Ape, but there was nothing else beyond that. The little girl he supposedly enslaved was sleeping in his arms, all cuddled up. The very image was a mockery to everything others made him out to be.

"Oh my god!" he said. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my goooooood!" A smile appeared on his brown ape-ish face. "Those are all for _me_?"

"Yes," replied the cheetah. "My name is Corvold. Copeland told me about your need for clothes. Luckily for you, I had a few I can spare."

"Awesome. Joshua Renalia, B.T.W. Pleased to meet'cha!"

Corvold didn't respond. He was trying to decipher what exactly "B.T.W." meant. He didn't notice Joshua move to set the child down on the floor. "Okay, Kilat, Joshua's got to do a little 'window shopping', okay? Let me just leave you here for-

The dragoness mewled like an unhappy kitten. "Mmmmm**no**." Her tail wrapped itself tighter to Joshua's arm. She dug her claws into his bare chest.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-**ow**!" He hissed, drawing Corvold's attention. "Goddammit, f*ck!" For a moment there, he thought the human was going to drop the little girl or push her off. It was impressive to watch Joshua exercise self-restraint, leave the child alone, and let her cling to him. The love in this gesture alone was unmistakable. How many times had Corvold done the same thing, for his poor and clingy orphans?

"Be that way then," Joshua grumbled. "Damn kid. You'll get a bone-crushing hug tonight." He approached the wheelbarrow for a closer look at the goods. Instantly Corvold noticed Joshua's left arm. It was lifeless, held slack against his side. Joshua probably couldn't move it anymore, he surmised. One of the more permanent souvenirs from the incident two days ago, perhaps?

Still, for somebody placed under room arrest Joshua looked well-fed. The rest of his movements were accompanied with the strength and weight of a healthy person, but they lacked the grace or presence of experience. Corvold's scrutinizing eyes fell on his abdomen. The human's tattered rags couldn't hide the bare skin from his assessing gaze. He saw no signs of malnourishment or disease. No scars from the wounds inflicted on him back at the Gates. No hints at all to a hardened life wherever he came from.

He had to admit, Joshua looked **utterly pathetic**. How did an adolescent like him survive out in the Markazian wilderness? Even a place as close as Summer Forest or Dry Canyon hid many dangers from the untrained eye; what were nuisances to dragonkind were often deadly to the other species.

Corvold continued to appraise Joshua as he stopped in front of the cart. Luckily for the furless ape, Kilat had fallen asleep propping up her muzzle on his shoulders and upper arm. This gave Joshua the opportunity to hold her down with his _chin_, lean back to support her weight and bite on her horn to hold her steady while he reached into the pile of clothing with his only working arm. _Creative, I'll give him that._

Joshua groaned, "Uuuggggggggh." He held a robe away from his face. "Peeyew! What the f*ck, dude!"

Still a weak, pathetic child whose miraculous luck would run out someday though.

"Is something the matter?"

The furless ape rolled his eyes. Corvold wasn't familiar with the gesture, but it felt disrespectful. Huntress help him restrain the urge to chastise the human like his orphans. "Like, _duuuuuuh_, man. These clothes—your clothes—I'm sorry, but they smell like they've been soaked in piss for **weeks**!"

"These are clean," he said. He hoped he said it patiently. Very, patiently.

"No way," Joshua insisted. "No no nooooo way in hell these are f*cking clean!" He brought another piece of garment to his nose and sniffed. "UGH!" He recoiled. "You call _this shit_ **clean**? Goddammit, you people aren't even _trying_ to hide that urine smell!"

Corvold resisted the urge to snap at him. "That's because it _was_ washed in urine," he said, deadpan.

"What the f*ck, dude!" He tossed the robe back into the wheelbarrow. It didn't entirely fall in. "I'm not gonna wear something somebody peed on! For all I know **you** did it!"

"...It'd be cheaper that way," Corvold admitted. "But I made sure we only used filtered _dragon_ urine from the—

"Jesus Christ, eew! Why the hell would you do that? That's... f*ck, dude, that's so f*cking gross."

Joshua was acting like a petulant _child_! Why? Where did this self-entitled attitude come from? Were all humans like this? Did they live in some highly-advanced utopia, where every citizen was coddled and spoiled like kittens for the entirety of their lives?

Corvold quashed his irritation—stopped it from surfacing—but a little of it escaped through one grumbling sigh. "Joshua," and he said his name as slowly and as patiently as he could, "The Chemistry Guild says urine is a strong disinfectant and dragon urine—

"For the last f*cking time, NO! It's bad enough that I have to get a _disgusting, goopy_ _tongue bath_ twice a day—

A half-asleep Kilat exclaimed, "Hey."

Joshua ignored the little girl. "And the last thing I want to do," he continued, "is wear clothes that's been washed in piss. It's so _dirty_! What, am I gonna wash these by having **her **pee on it? God, what the hell is **wrong** with you people? Don't you guys have any soap or somethi—

Corvold cut him off, "Huntress shoot your tongue! Perhaps, for someone like you, accepting our way is the same as a bitter melon in the mouth. But this is how things are done here and it will remain so until someone makes a better alternative. The whining of a _spoiled brat_ won't change anything!"

He's had enough with Joshua's tirade. It betrayed his immaturity. It revealed his misguided priorities. "I was told you needed clothes, and here they are! They'll be much better help to you than those tattered rags you're wearing. Skilled hunters don't refuse good equipment offered to them, else they risk failing the Great Hunt."

Corvold brought his muzzle closer to Joshua's. "Now if you're too **stupid** to reject these," he growled. "Then go ahead. Tell me you're all right with your furless skin and I'll leave. A hunter is first judged by his gear, after all."

The furless ape squeaked a pathetic "Eep!" and backed away, breaking eye contact. Intimidation shimmered within his viridian gaze. Kilat sensed this. Her eyes snapped open and, in an instant, leapt between the two of them.

"You're scaring him," she said, glowering at the red cheetah. Drowsiness still glazed her eyes. _Obviously forced herself awake, that stupid girl._

Corvold ignored the little yellowscale. "So now you hide behind the tail of a child!" He derided. "Just how useless are you? I put in time and effort to give you something _you_ need and now you're rejecting my help on something so trivial!"

He stepped closer. "So what'll it be, kitten? I don't have all day."

Kilat snarled at Corvold, but a touch from Joshua immediately silenced her. She whipped her head around. "Joshua?"

The furless ape shook his head. Corvold understood it was a disapproving gesture from the way he shut his eyes and the strange expression on his lips. "But he's doing something! I just wanna protect you!"

Joshua did not say anything. He tugged at Kilat's shoulder.

"But, b-but... Joshuuuuaaaaaa!"

"It's okay," he said, staring at her blue eyes.

Somehow, with just those words, the child prodigy relented, "Oh all right." Then she backed off, exchanging places with him. It testified to the strong bond between them. They only had each other, Corvold theorized. Their relationship mirrored what he had with his precious orphans. He couldn't judge Joshua for this, not at all. Even if he _was_ a poor excuse of a survivor, likely to die within three days out there in the wilds.

Corvold crossed his arms, refusing to let them sway his domineering posture. "Well?"

Joshua stared at him for a few seconds, before he sighed and approached the cart again. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'd be stupid to throw all these away."

He took off what remained of his garments singlehanded. He hurled them to the floor, then ambled over to Corvold's barrow. Joshua's face was expressive, openly cringing at the smell as he raised the new clothes up for closer inspection. Corvold's selection was modest. After all, he was but a simple orphan master, operating in one of the poorer districts of Warfang. Garments normally worn by aristocrats, the affluent, or high-ranking officials were of such high quality that even a merchant in Mudline District would have to apply for a loan from the money bears at Gilded Wings.

What he prepared for Joshua were basic and practical. Tunics and sandals made from low-quality Death Hound leather, shirts and capes woven with fibers of the common bulak plants grown right outside the walls, and trousers patched from old, discarded fabrics. He even threw in one of his old overcoats—Atlawa fur and deer hide. It would serve the furless ape well in the winter months. All six of them.

Corvold eyed the rags by Joshua's feet. "You wouldn't mind if I take a look at your old things?" he asked.

"Nah," he replied. "Though it'd be nice if you know someone who can fix 'em for me."

The cheetah strolled over to Joshua's used clothing. Kilat sidestepped him and joined Joshua, initiating a conversation about the human's frail skin. Corvold left the two alone. He swept the makeshift forest sandals aside and picked up the fabric.

What was once a proper shirt—now a shredded rag from the armpits down—was sewn with a material that looked, no, that _felt_ identical to premium quality bulak fibers. Corvold released a breath of amazement at the cloth's rich color. It was even better than the dyes reserved solely for Warfang's aristocrats in the Elemental Disricts.

He moved on to the discarded trousers. Like the shirt, they were tattered, torn in places, and full of small holes. It was also caked in dirt. Still, the pants appeared fixable. It would take quite a few patches of cloth and some stitching, and the process would significantly degrade their quality, but it would get the job done. At least Joshua wouldn't have to throw this away.

Corvold wasn't a master at this particular craft. Yet, with what little he gained from caring for his orphans, one glance was enough for him to realize this pair of pants were made from a material that simply didn't exist in any region of Markazia. It was a precious thing, and it would be worth analyzing.

Huntress, the incident two days ago was not kind to these valuable fabrics.

The cheetah stared at the clothes in his hand. He pondered over their origins and the many unspoken questions accompanying them.

"I'm not sure if that's possible," Corvold replied. He raised the shirt. "This one's better off thrown or traded away." Then the trousers. "This one needs a bit of patchwork—and from a good seamstress—but the quality will never be as good as it was before. The material doesn't exist here."

Joshua folded up the legs of his donated pants and pulled up the waistline. He needed to jump—it was a few sizes bigger than him. Kilat, who had been sniffing him, backed away when he did. The human took a rope from the wheelbarrow and wrapped it around his waist to keep the baggy thing from falling.

"I don't want to throw any of that away," Joshua said. "And if I need to patch up my joggers like you said, then that's okay with me."

Corvold didn't answer.

Joshua elaborated, to fill the silence. "We have a saying in my culture. It's often said that 'clothes make the man'." He straightened the peasant's tunic over his bulak shirt. Both once worn by Corvold's kids, who had now outgrown them. "That shit you're holding there, it's a part of me. They don't say much other than that I slept very comfortably in my house, but… it's the only thing I have left from my old life."

Corvold replied, "...I see." He gestured at Copeland, who had been observing from the door all this time. "I'll ask around. If I find someone, I'll send them his way."

"I would like that."

Seeing that Joshua had finished, he asked, "So what do you think?"

Kilat cried, "You reek!"

"No need to remind me..." Joshua groaned. He rubbed Kilat's head. She leaned into his hand. "Anyway, smell aside, they fit well. Feels good to have something covering my skin again. Pants are way too baggy, but I can't complain when the old one's full of holes right now."

Joshua crouched and faced the little girl. "How do I look?"

"Normal," she said. "Like the people we saw out there!"

Corvold smirked. "'_Clothes make the man_', just as you said."

"Thanks," said Joshua. "Again." He took out the other clothing from the barrow and dropped them on the floor. Falling to his knees, the human started folding them up one by one. Corvold conjectured he would store them in one of the empty shelves or drawers that came with this room. "I really appreciate this."

The child smiled. Kilat's smile was wide and lively. It captured her bright enthusiasm. "Yeah! Thanks, mister cheetah! Joshua's really happy about this."

"Was glad to," Corvold responded. "I don't get an opportunity like this very often." He threw the old clothes back at Joshua and retrieved his cart. "I'm sorry, but I better get going. I still have to pick up the children."

Joshua stopped him. "Wait! One last thing. How do I clean these?" he inquired. "Kilat doesn't have to..." he gulped. "She doesn't have to _do her thing_ on them, right?"

Corvold sighed. Having his own dragon around would be better, but he didn't voice this for fear of repeating that nonsense earlier. "No," he reassured him. "Just ask a mole. Or your guards. They'll know what to do."

"Are you sure, dude? Are you _absolutely_ sure about that? I mean, I, I—

"Goodbye."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, I still gotta ask—

The sliding door was shut the second Corvold walked out.

"AH F*CK!" He heard Joshua grumble.

Copeland quipped, "Noisy one, isn't he?"

"Annoying," grunted Seriphos.

Corvold ignored their comments. "Lead the way, Copeland. I need your help getting a ride at the nearest VTOL point."

"Oh, that's right. Come on."

Corvold followed the feline out of the living quarters. He cogitated over the curiosity that was Joshua Renalia. Meeting him had been worth it. Their fifteen minutes of contact dispelled all his preconceived notions.

While he couldn't exactly confirm whether the human's abilities matched the descriptions of doom, death, and despair, Corvold at least walked away with a better grasp of who the furless ape was.

And it was sad.

Everything about the adolescent pointed to a world unknown. A place beyond all established regions. A realm of countless opportunities. Yet he knew nothing about Markazia, unaware of its people and their ways. In fact, today he demonstrated his functional uselessness. He probably flopped around from one thing to another, like a youngling grasping for anything its fingers brushed. Even if he _was_ as powerful as the myriad witnesses and stories expressed, what use was a power that couldn't be controlled? Joshua didn't _have_ to back away in fright earlier. He wouldn't have had to if he'd been more confident in his ability to fight back, in his life experiences. Already he was allowing the Guardians, the Saviors, and that child prodigy to dictate his actions here in Warfang.

Joshua Renalia would never be in control of his life. _Food attracts predators, as the saying goes._

How pitiful.

Truly, truly pitiful. The Huntress should shoot the furless ape dead, out of mercy and kindness.

But who was Corvold to judge him so? For all he knew, **this** situation was Joshua's Great Hunt. To make a life for himself in the City of Dragons could very well be the greatest and most heaven-defying challenge in his life. Everyone's Great Hunt was different. What was effortless for someone may be impossible for another.

He stared back at the hallways leading to that room. "The next few years will be interesting," Corvold muttered. "I will definitely keep an eye on you…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In the Middle Ages, people rarely washed their clothes, and at the time it was acceptable etiquette to blow their nose on their hands and wipe them on their clothes. Clothes were kept smelling nice with dried flowers or fragrant water. But during those rare times dirty laundry is washed, people would soak them in lye, especially if the clothing was white or off-white. Lye is a strong alkaline solution, valued for its cleaning effects. Urine (sometimes dung) is used as a substitute ingredient, especially in times of financial need.

In 16th century England, urine was so important to the textile industry that specific chamberpots _dedicated to its collection_ with enough casks for one year's worth of piss from 1000 people were shipped all the way to Yorkshire for use as an ingredient in the production of mordant.

Ahhh… medieval life could be _so_ disgusting.

Anyway, replies to reviews.

Somas35. Cool. Well, yeah, hands are full. I've got some friends I can bounce off ideas of, soooo I'm good. One guy even wants to write stories solely for the "City Life" category of snips. Thanks for the offer though!

Fanfiction Scrutinizer. Thanks so much for your comment. I am so happy you think highly of my story. While I write mainly for fun, I also do it to provide good entertainment value. _Aimless_ started off as my attempt to provide a well-written entry to this genre, and knowing how far it got is just incredible. Really couldn't do it without people like y'all supporting my work.

I wish you luck with your story though! We had a really good conversation about it on PM and I thought its first two chapters were promising. I hope you'll keep writing it someday.

Zero fullbuster (guest). Thanks for the review, as usual! Glad you're there.

InfamousVenous. Yeah, the last chapter was really a response to a review I've read on another fic. I mean, it's a question _nobody_ really answers. May as well explore it on my own, since it is a human fic too. I've had trouble writing that, though. Joshua shouldn't completely know how timekeeping works in the Dragon Realms until his fifth week in room arrest. At least here, on week 2, he knows each of the eight days of the week and the fact the Realms runs on a 27-hour day.

Timestamping… really wasn't a new idea. The timestamps were there ever since I started putting my snips onto a spreadsheet. Even back with Glorified Peon #1 I had the beginning of a timeline in place. I just didn't decide to put them on the chapter titles 'til now.

Morning breath spit bath… yeah, totally disgusting right? But that's the point. It's _supposed_ to make you uncomfortable. This is their way of life. Joshua has no choice but to adapt, to accept it. Sure, it's adorable, it's (obviously) antimicrobrial, but it's still ew. XD Though looking at my notes on what the _other_ species do... personally I'd stick to the spit bath.

Djax80. It's going to be a while before shit hits the fan. I've told you as much in my PM to you and I'm saying it again here. XD Oh, and if this was a game, Joshua wouldn't have a mana bar. Ever played _Heroes of the Storm_? Joshua would have an energy bar instead, corresponding to the amount of mana and/or HP absorbed from friendly or hostile targets. His abilities would play out like an artillery-style anti-mage.

I wonder if you're done thinking about that question that's been dropped in the last chapter.

Lonewolf. Humans can and have acted on instinct too, just so you know ^^

Toadn2011. Thanks for the feedback! I hope you'll continue following _Aimless_ as the story goes on. As for where I'm _really_ going here, the title should have clued you in a long time ago. After the 19th chapter, the storyline splits into four separate threads that run parallel with each other. The **real** main story here is Joshua's personal quest (to find a way home), but the world doesn't revolve around him and has a life on its own. Aimless will not end even if Joshua finds a way back to Earth.

Bizzleb. Yep, nothing wrong with that. Joshua/Kilat fluff is so cute, though. :3 Now if only I can get people to stop shipping 'em. XD I mean… guys… she's a child. A little girl. I know Joshua's not _that_ much older than she is, but Lordy… XD

V-SxC. Thanks for the feedback. Nothing else to add, huh? D:

Koal (guest). Haha, all right then.

Aguywhogames. You probably got my fic on alert. :P And thanks for the review! Yep, the idea for that came to my head suddenly and I was inspired to write. To answer your question, I'd say it's a combination of both. The implications of such ignorance and/or sense will happen after Joshua is given a bit more freedom, officially or unofficially. ^^

Also, good job catching that "disguised bombshell" in last chapter's notes. :P

Draykat the half-dragon mage. Thanks for the tip. But, uh, the wait was due to the content organization. Not the writing itself. Oh, and since I've gotten myself a significant other last May… you can probably add bonding time with her as another cause of delay. XD

Divine the Withered Soul. Thanks for the review! Haha, the waiting game. EVERYONE hates the waiting game… I'm following some Spyro fics and FSN crossover fics right now that **just won't update** aaaaaargh.

Joshua did catch that dragon eventually, though. Even if it was by sheer luck.

Folwod. Ehehe spotted that one, didn't you? It's headed in that direction, yes.

A Random Guy (guest). Hello! Thanks for the review! You probably got your "sombra vibe" from the fact she's saying "Boop!" Heh, I bet she will… but then… I don't know. Kilat's electricity just might short out Sombra's gadgets. How else would she cloak, hack, and translocate, right?


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